Dying to Catch My Breath
by niah1988
Summary: Life is just one breath away.
1. On the Edge

**Title**: Dying to Catch My Breath

**Summary**: Life is just one breath away.

**Rating**: T-rated because of violence. (Yes, there'll be some violence. -cue evil laughter-)

**Genre**: Drama/Friendship (for now)

**Characters**: Brennan, Booth, the rest of the Squint Squad. Oh, and Sully's there too.

**Author's note**: So this is it...My new multi-chap fic. This time it's just me, no other authors involved. Unless you count my proof-readers as co-writers...(Thanks for all the advice, M and Addictt!) This first chapter is kinda short. The others are all about 2,000 words long. I'm not going to reveal what the story is about just yet. You'll have to wait for the second chapter to find out. All I'm saying is that you should keep an eye on the timestamps. (I'm so proud of those!)

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to **_Jemb_. **She knows why. Is my present okay or not?

**Disclaimer**: Bones, its characters and whatever is connected to it doesn't belong to me. Only this plot line is entirely mine. 

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**  
Chapter One**** - On the Edge  
**

_**Tuesday May 29th **__**2007 -- 03:22 p.m.**_

A gentle breeze ran through her hair, chasing it away from her face and over her shoulders. A couple of stray curls wrapped themselves around her neck. She let out a deep sigh and tilted her head to let the rays of light wash over her face. The sun and the wind took turns in warming up and cooling down her skin. It was a pleasant, and more than welcome, sensation.

This was something she had missed, this feeling of calm and utter content. Who could have guessed Temperance Brennan would one day stand at the edge of a cliff, simply enjoying the sun beating down on her while the wind played with her hair? All that occupied her mind was the next town and the feeling of freedom that rushed through her veins every time she sped over the highway. It almost seemed as if nothing had ever happened---almost, but not quite.

A tall dark-haired figure came up behind her. Brennan threw a furtive glance in his direction before turning back to the peaceful sight before her. She remained quiet as he placed himself beside her. The only indication she gave of acknowledging his presence was a featherlike stroke of her knuckles over the back of his hand.

They stared straight ahead, completely mesmerized by the depth of the cliff and the silence hanging around them. The contrast between the light breeze sneaking under their clothes and the wind that howled and roared at the bottom of the cliff was immense. It emphasized the heaviness of the thick layer of emotions that coated them. The wind that was violently pushing through cracks and holes below their feet was nothing compared to the storm raging inside of them. They were on the run. From who they had been. From what had happened. But mostly from who they were now.

Brennan crossed her arms and let out another deep sigh. "We will never forget what happened."

Nodding, he said, "I doubt we ever will." He reached up to brush the curls around her neck aside. It had become a regular habit for him to gently untangle her hair, just as it had become a habit of listening to her steady breathing. He'd never tire of hearing the air escape over her parted lips. It soothed him; it told him she was still with him. They both shivered at the contact of his warm fingers and her cold skin. "You're cold," he noted.

His words involuntarily triggered a memory she had carefully tucked away. Blood---there had been blood. Not just where it was supposed to be, but everywhere. It had pushed out of its confinement, and had poured upon their clothes, their hands, their faces…It had been seeping into the carpet, and had been dripping off the television set. There had even been blood spatters on the legs of the dining table. And someone had said that she was cold.

Brennan drew in a sharp breath. _Block the memories. You know you can do it. Block them out. Make them disappear.__And breathe._ She inhaled and exhaled slowly. _Never forget to breathe. Never. _She cringed as another memory rushed through her mind. "Breathe, damn it," a voice had begged. "You have to breathe." She closed her eyes as the next memory washed over her. "Promise me you'll never forget to breathe. Promise me." She had promised. On everything she held dear, she had promised him to never forget to breathe---even if it hurt, even if it killed her...even if it made her happy.

They were on the run, trying to find some breathing room. They both needed some time away from everything they knew, to learn how to breathe again. The act itself wasn't difficult. Inhaling and exhaling in a steady manner was easy once you found the right rhythm. Dealing with the pain that came along with every gulp of air was what tortured them.

When Brennan opened her eyes again all evidence of hurt had been safely pushed aside. She filled her lungs with fresh air, a small smile finding its way to her mouth. Here she would be able to breathe again. It was just a matter of finding the right air. She cocked her head to the side to look at him. "Will we ever get over it?"

"Maybe."

"It aches."

"I know." He brought his hand up to touch her shoulder, but let it fall down at his side again two seconds later when he sensed her stiffen.

"Not my shoulder, please," she softly said. "It still hurts."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans while he nudged a piece of rock over the edge with the tip of his shoe. They watched it tumble down, only to come to a rest at the bottom where the wind swirled around. "Time will ease the pain," he assured her.

"I hate metaphors."

"A metaphor is all I have to offer, and all you're willing to accept right now."

Brennan hung her head. He was right. Her wounds would have to heal first, both the physical as the mental ones. The same went up for him. They'd have to run harder---and further away--- before they would be able to let someone else in again. But not all hope was lost. She had discovered something important in the last few days. She trusted him. She completely and utterly trusted him, even more so than before. And he trusted her. That was something she was desperately clinging onto. They would make it as long as they trusted each other.

A smile graced her lips as she fully turned to him. "That's not true." He cocked his eyebrows in response. "I'm accepting your trust."

He returned her gentle smile. "Thank you."

They spent a few more minutes staring down at the cliff face before they both zipped up their leather jackets. After one last look at the blue cloudless sky, they turned around. Their heavy shoes kicked up the sand when the pair retraced their steps to their motorcycle. The farther they moved away from the cliff, the more trouble Brennan had breathing. Without that soft breeze to caress her skin, all that was left now was the scorching sun. It burned through her jacket and set her wounds on fire.

She needed to breathe. A gulp of fresh air would calm her down and would make her forget about her sore muscles. While approaching their motorcycle, their footsteps throwing up clouds of dust against their jeans, she rolled her shoulders to get rid of the stiffness. She ached all over her body from all those countless, straining hours of pacing around. That was another thing she desperately wanted to forget---the endless pacing around, the nerves wrecking her body and spirit, the constant balancing between drowning and surviving. She was tired. She just needed some breathing room.

Brennan crawled onto the Harley Davidson behind him. After having put on their helmets, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Even though she had cringed when he had reached for her shoulder, she didn't hesitate to touch him. He made her feel safe, and feeling his muscles flex under her palms assured her that he was safe as well. She brought her head next to his and asked him, "How am I…are we…supposed to deal with this?"

He first slipped on his sunglasses before he kicked the engine to life. The loud roaring of the motorcycle chased the silence away and made every square inch of her skin tingle. "We move on, Bones. We try to move on."

* * *

_Be honest. You thought it was Sully who was there with Brennan, hmm?_


	2. When You Tore Me Apart

**Author's note:** Can I just say "wow"? I never expected so many people to be intriguid by the first chapter. Let's hope this part will do the same. Before I forget, I'm labeling this chapter as slightly dramatic because of the violence (insert evil laugh).

Special thanks to _EternalConfusion_ for the beta-job, to _M_ for all the suggestions she made (Sully came off as an idiot before she had a gander at this chapter), to _Amasayda_ for the medical info and to _Addictt_ for being my "reading guinea pig".

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**  
Chapter Two - When You Tore Me Apart**

**_Wednesday May 30th 2007 -- 02:31 p.m._**

Brennan perched her hip on the seat of the motorcycle as she watched Booth enter the small supermarket a bit further along. Moments ago they had pulled up at a large parking lot on the side of the road to take a break. They had been riding for hours, as if the hounds of hell were after them…in a way they were.

All those memories swirling around in her head could only be chased away when they were going 80 miles an hour. Only when they were tearing along the highway, her hair whipping in the wind, her sunglasses reflecting the bright sunlight and the asphalt humming under the wheels of their bike---only then could she feel free. She loved seeing their surroundings---miles and miles of barren sand except for the occasional cactus---fly by in a blur as she reveled in the warmth that seeped from his leather jacket and in the feeling of his muscles moving against her hands.

Temperance had never been one to initiate physical contact. Thanks to her friends back home and the man racing along with her, she had begun to understand and value the satisfaction you got from feeling another person's skin pressed against your own. Whenever she was leaning against him, holding onto his waist for support, she lost herself in the sense of safety that overtook her. With him around, Brennan wasn't afraid to slip up and reach out. The darkness and lack of air didn't suffocate her as much then.

As long as Booth was near to serve as an anchor in times of need, she wouldn't be pushed around by the wind, like that small piece of paper dancing over the parking lot. Her eyes followed the paper as it cut capers over the ground, never knowing where it was going to end up next. At the moment she sort of felt like that piece of paper; not knowing where she was heading, just trusting the wind to guide her in the right direction. With some help of the wind and Booth, she'd clear her head and find her way back to her old life.

A cold chill ran down her spine when she remembered the smile he had given her. She could still see the blood spatters trickling down the legs of the dining table and down the glass doors of the small cupboard, but what she remembered the most was the desperation that he had tried to hide. His smile had torn her apart. It had ripped her to shreds, more so than that maniac had managed to do.

Brennan locked her arms around her waist. Instant pain rushed through her, making her gasp for air. _Breathe. I need to breathe._ She had just gotten a hold of her breath when Booth returned.

"Here's your water. Room temperature, I'm afraid. The cooler was empty," Booth apologized as he handed her a bottle. He mimicked her stance and took a sip from his own bottle while staring off in the distance.

"It happened so fast," Temperance softly said.

"In the blink of an eye."

"I didn't even have time to breathe."

Booth remained quiet for a few moments. "Neither of us did."

---°---

_**Thursday April 26th 2007 – 10:53 a.m. **_

"Tempe, you can't go in."

"Why?"

"Because it's too damn dangerous!"

Booth, amused to no end, watched them fight from a distance. _That's right, Bones. Give him a hard time. That's the least he deserves._ He let his gaze wander over the group of black SUVs parked here and there on the empty lot, all the while eavesdropping on the rather heated argument between his partner and his friend. Sully was trying to keep Temperance from entering the immense Victorian house with them.

About an hour ago they had received a tip that the man they were after---a serial killer who loved to shoot at every body part of his victims before lodging a bullet between their eyes---was currently hiding in the dilapidated Victorian house half a mile to their left. It was a well-known hideout for crack junkies. They had been on this case for several weeks. Now that the murderer was close, they were eager to make an arrest and put him behind bars to make him pay for the atrocities he had committed. And now an extremely worried Tim Sullivan was trying to talk Brennan into staying behind. Booth smirked. _Good luck with that, buddy._

One of the agents, who were running around on the previously empty lot, came up to Booth to inform him that everyone was in position and ready to close in on their prey. Booth sent him away with the instructions to wait for his signal to start the raid.

"That's not a valid reason, Sully."

"Tempe, just listen to me. There's a serial killer inside that house. A serial killer, for crying out loud!"

Booth chuckled. _Wrong move, pal. Never point out the obvious when you're talking to Bones._

"I'm very much aware that he's a serial killer, Sully. I've been on this case as long as you have. You can't stop me from going in with you."

"Tempe, please. I'm begging you..."

"Sully!"

Seeing that Temperance was on the point of exploding made Booth launch himself off the SUV he had been leaning against during their whole exchange. As much as he wanted to see them fight some more---maybe then she would realize Sully wasn't right for her---he couldn't have them shouting like that on his operation. It could undermine his authority as lead agent, and that was something he didn't want to happen. He had already lost her; losing his authority would be too much to handle.

He approached the couple, focused on breaking up their fight and restoring the peace. "Let it go, Sully. I've been down this road before. She's coming with us. That house is full of drug addicts. Our killer could easily hide amongst them, which means we need her," he nodded at Brennan, "to find a match between the murderer's profile we've drawn up and the actual killer. Besides, there'll be a dozen agents plus us around to protect her if things get too dangerous. Not that she needs a lot of protecting; she can easily take care of herself. Trust me, I know." The last part was more mumbled to himself than to the others.

Temperance smiled in satisfaction. "Thank you, Booth."

One hand found its way to his hip, the other one he pointed straight at her face. Poking a probing finger in her direction, he warned her, "You're staying right behind me. You got that?" Temperance nodded. "Good. Let's get you a Kevlar vest and go in."

After the bulletproof vest had been securely strapped around Brennan, Booth signaled at the agents gathered at the front door to start the invasion. As silently as possible the flock of FBI-agents entered the house, swarming out to the left and the right in small groups of three. Booth went straight ahead, with Brennan and Sully in tow. Gun drawn he moved down the hallway. Temperance followed closely behind him. She had been on enough raids with him to know he had been serious when he had warned her to stay behind him. Sully closed the line. He had to make sure no one came up behind them to shoot them in the back.

They stalked through the hallway, checking rooms along the way, together with a couple of other agents. Cobwebs and thick layers of dust covered all the furniture they came across. The occasional junky snuck away when their flashlights slid across the rooms. Their footsteps echoed through the corridor, bounced off the walls and back to their ears. Even though their instincts told them to turn back, the three pushed further down the hallway.

As quietly as possible the threesome entered the living room. It took their eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness created by the wooden boards nailed to the walls to barricade the windows. Booth quickly scanned the perimeter. He was about to state the room was empty when a soft shuffling of feet caught his attention. They weren't alone after all. He brought his hand up in a closed fist to signal his companions to stay still while he tried to determine where the sound came from. Then he heard something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The curt metal click of a flick-knife.

Booth barely had the time to register that there was someone carrying a knife in the same room, when a figure jumped up from behind the couch and threw himself at the anthropologist. Brennan's loud grunt broke the heavy silence moments before she doubled over in pain. Horrified Booth watched their attacker slash his knife across the patch of stomach that was left uncovered by the Kevlar vest. She cried out again when he buried his knife in her shoulder. It wasn't until Booth saw a dark stain form on her shirt that he found the strength to move his legs.

He launched himself forward and dragged the man away from the helpless anthropologist. Anger blazing from his eyes, jaw and fists clenched, Booth spun the man around. He didn't even bother to take a good look at the attacker's face; all he wanted to do was to bury his knuckles in the man's features. One punch smashed the man's nose, another one landed on his chin. Brennan's assailant gasped for air when the FBI-agent kicked him in the gut. One blow on the head with Booth's gun later, the man was sprawled out on the floor, unconscious and with blood leaking from his broken nose. Once he had verified that their assailant was out cold, Booth rushed over to Brennan who was clutching her stomach. Sully was already with her, trying to determine what damage the knife exactly had caused.

"Cuff him," Booth barked at Sully, shoving past him to get to Brennan. For a second Sully looked like he was going to refuse, but Booth's attention was already completely focused on assessing his partner's injuries. Silently, he left them to deal with Brennan's attacker. "Bones? Hey Bones, look at me." Booth gently nudged her chin up. The pain welling from her eyes took him by the throat for a couple of seconds.

"Booth, I..." Brennan inhaled sharply. "I can't breathe."

"Easy there, Bones," he shushed her. "Panicking won't help." Booth wished he could believe his own words. Razor-sharp fear coursed through his veins, instead of the blinding anger he had worked off on their attacker minutes ago, at the sight of his partner covering a rapidly growing bloodstain on her stomach. "Let me take a look at that," he softly asked her, gently pulling her arm away before removing and dropping the Kevlar vest to the ground. His breath hitched in his throat when he laid eyes on what the large tear in her shirt revealed. A long thin slash, oozing out a dark substance, ran across her abdomen.

"It looks worse than it is." He lifted his head to meet her gaze. Brennan grunted again. "It's this I'm concerned about," she nodded at the gap in her right shoulder.

He immediately, but carefully, wrapped his fingers around her arms to steady her. "Bones, this doesn't look too good." He cringed at seeing blood push out of the tear in her skin. "Thank God he didn't leave the knife in." His voice was hoarse, no more than a whisper. In his head he was already imagining how his partner would wheeze in pain as he jerked the knife out of her. It would probably feel like he would be pulling the knife out of his own heart when Brennan's flesh let go of the blade.

"No, you're wrong."

"Come again, I'm wrong? Are you kid- Bones, it would've been far worse if there'd been a knife sticking out of your shoulder." Booth purposely articulated the words knife and shoulder to stress the gravity of their situation.

Brennan managed to produce a wry smile. "Who's the doctor here, Booth? It would have been better if the knife had been left in my shoulder." The doubt must have been visible in his eyes because she continued her explanation, either drawing in sharp breaths or gritting her teeth in between sentences, "Imagine a cork on a bottle of wine. That's what the knife would have been for my shoulder. It would have delayed the bleeding. Who knows what damage there is now…perforated vessels...slid muscles...injured bones...The possibilities," she gasped, "are endless."

He loosened his grip on her arms as the knowledge that there could be disastrous consequences because the knife had been pulled out penetrated the dense fog clouding his mind. Booth gulped. She had to get attended to. Just the sight of fresh blood dripping out of the tears in her skin made his stomach turn. His hands fell to his sides before he slightly turned away from her. Feeling for his cell phone, he mumbled, "Then we better get you to a hospital."

"No need, Booth. I've got it covered," Sully butted in. While Booth had been attending to Brennan, Sully had slapped the cuffs on Brennan's attacker---a bit rougher and tighter than was necessary---and pulled out his phone to call for medical backup.

At the sound of Sully's voice, Brennan turned towards him and saw their unconscious attacker laying at his feet. "That's not our killer."

Booth frowned. "Why not?"

"For starters he used a knife. The guy we're after is..." She grunted and cradled her hurt arm against her equally hurt stomach. "Is crazy about guns. And his skeletal structure---too tall. The bullets we found..." Another grunt escaped her. "In our victims would have been shot from a different angle...if he was this tall."

"Bones, what are you imply-" He was stopped short by the sound of footsteps, closely followed by something that made his blood run cold---the soft click of a hammer being pulled back. Their nightmare wasn't over yet.

---°---

_**Wednesday May 30th 2007 -- 02**__**:34 p.m.**_

The piece of paper she had previously been studying finally came to a stop against one of the tires of a parked car. Brennan slowly lifted her head to meet Booth's gaze.

"Can you breathe now?" she asked him, looking him straight in the eye.

He produced a weak smile. "Barely."

* * *

_  
Oh dear, is that a cliffie? I think it is! I've never done one of those before. Have to say it feels exhilarating to some extent, but also very cruel since I won't be able to post the third chapter next week...Yes, that's right. You guys will have to wait two weeks for an update. I'm going on an Internet-free beach vacation so um...Go easy on me with the rotten tomatoes, will you? lol_


	3. I'd Give My Heart

**Author's note**: So my trip got cancelled thanks to bad weather. Oh well... (shrugs) Randomness of life, I guess. Anyway, here's the third chapter. The big question a lot of you are pondering about---will I kill off Sully?---will be answered in this chapter. It's slightly more dramatic than the last one. I wonder if I've gone over board...

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also thanks to **Addictt** for being my guinea pig, **M** for looking over my grammar and **Amasayda** for the medical mumbo jumbo.

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**  
Chapter Three - I'd Give My Heart**

_**Wednesday May 30th 2007 -- 02:48 p.m.**_

She rested her bottle of water on her thigh, locking her stare on an unknown point in the distance. Brennan watched cars pull up at the rest stop and saw them leave again a couple of minutes later. Mothers came out of the market, loaded with drinks and snacks for their husbands and children waiting in the car. There were one or two groups of teenagers who exited the store with cans of beer, probably bought with fake IDs.

Content studying the steady stream of people, she didn't notice the anxiety playing over Booth's face. His bottle, already finished to the last drop, was rested next to him on the Harley. His hands flew from his thighs to the edge of the saddle where his fingers began a fast tapping. The crease in his forehead deepened and his gaze flicked between his partner and the people crowding the parking lot before he crossed his ankles and let out a deep sigh.

When Brennan was finished with her drink, he immediately sprung into action, glad to do something instead of just standing around. Whenever Booth didn't feel comfortable, he began to fidget. He needed an outlet for the pent up energy his emotions burdened him with. Taking the empty bottle from her hands, he pushed himself away from the motorcycle and crossed the parking lot to reach the trashcan. All the while, he kept an eye on their surroundings. After what had happened, it had become second nature to check and double-check every square inch. He'd turn every stone to see if some twisted mind was hiding underneath it if it wasn't for Brennan keeping an eye on his behaviour. He didn't want her to worry any more than she already did. She needed to sort out her own nightmares. She didn't need his on top of hers.

Brennan turned her attention from the happy families going about their everyday lives to her travel companion, who was pacing a couple of yards to her left. She didn't attempt to calm him. In the last few weeks she had come to understand that it was his way of dealing with whatever was bothering him. He'd cease the nervous movements when his mind quelled his anxious thoughts. After a while, he seemed to slow down. Brennan assumed all his pacing around had calmed him down. Booth halted for a second to study the anthropologist, who was still leaning against the motorcycle. He started towards her, his gaze darkening with every step he took in her direction. It was as dark as the night by the time he reached her.

"I'm sorry, Bones," he said, shoving his hands down his pockets and surprising her with his statement at the same time.

---°---

_**Thursday April 26th 2007 -- 10:58 a.m.**_

_"Bones, what are you imply-" He was stopped short by the sound of footsteps, closely followed by something that made his blood run cold---the soft click of a hammer being pulled back. _

Following the sickening click, a loud bang echoed through the living room. The warning shot had barely buzzed the table when Sully leapt to his feet, gun ready to fire and his phone crashing to the floor.

"Sully, no! Don't!" Booth's shout was drowned out by the loud retorts of their attacker's gun being emptied on the threesome. Sully's first reaction was heading for Brennan to protect her, but he changed plans when Booth yelled, "Hide. I've got her!"

Sully lunged to the right behind a nearby armchair to protect himself. However, Brennan and Booth were still in plain sight, providing the murderer the perfect opportunity for some target practice. Booth pulled his gun while dragging Brennan towards him by her good arm trying to keep her safe. He turned in the direction the shots had come from waiting for the shooter's muzzle flash to reveal his position, keeping Brennan behind him as he moved towards potential cover. He heard the shooter load another clip and let his military experience guide him as he raised his gun and fired. Blood spattered all over the old television set dating from the early 70's behind the killer right before Booth's bullet split the screen in dozens of pieces. Though the shooter was bleeding profusely, it didn't stop him from opening fire again. Booth locked onto the muzzle flash and fired a second round. A second later the man's fate was sealed with a clean shot between his eyes. He was dead before he hit the ground, but the shots he had fired were flying at a merciless speed towards the targets he had aimed for, destroying everything they came across.

Warmth grazing his thigh and side sent a flash of pain through Booth's body. His cry matched Brennan's when a red hot explosion seared his skin. The ten seconds Booth had needed to wound and kill their enemy seemed to last an eternity as he finally ducked behind the large cupboard they'd been heading for. Together with Brennan he roughly bumped into the wall. The blow momentarily stunned him and intensified the pain he was already suffering from. His shoulder felt like it was on fire. Cracking one eye open through the blinding pain, he roughly tucked his gun in his holster. "Bones?" he tentatively tried, reaching out to touch her.

"Booth," her whimper came. The helpless breathless tone of her words made him forget all about his aching body. She slowly slid down the wall, her good hand cradling her left side. His breath hitching in his throat, he ignored the stabs in his leg as he knelt down. He gently pushed her hand away to see what was causing her such anguish. Moments later a loud curse rang through the room. Right at the bottom part of her ribcage near the long slash over her stomach was a hole the size of a penny gaping at him.

Sully appeared from behind the armchair. The closer he came to the pair, the more color drained from his face. It had been one thing to see Brennan being stabbed. Now that she'd been shot as well, everything around him seemed to spin out of control. Their surroundings, all the blood, Brennan's injuries...They all reminded him of the tragic event where he had lost his partner. The memories made him queasy, so he turned away from her, instead opting to check if the shooter was really dead.

Brennan moaned and brought her hand back up to touch the small river of blood running out of her body and over her stomach, where it mixed with the fresh blood seeping out of the knife wound. It slowly dripped down her side, onto the carpet. Her eyes rolled back when Booth swatted her hands away again so he could apply pressure on the gaping wound to stop it from bleeding. Pain beyond words exploded through her midriff, knocking all the air out of her lungs.

"Bones," Booth warned her. "Don't panic." It was to no avail. A spasm shook her body, her fingers cramped up and her head rolled to the side. Pain---there was just too much pain. She couldn't shake it off. "Damn it, breathe," her partner begged. "Don't go into shock, Bones. You need to breathe."

And then the pain was gone. All she felt was numbness in her stomach and a pressure on her skin. Relieved, she sucked in a deep breath. Her fingers relaxed and her eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was blood spatters trickling down the legs of the dining table. Then she caught sight of Booth's face---worry was radiating from the depth of his eyes and beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead. There was something about the way he pinched his lips together. She recognized his look from when he had rescued her from Kenton. He was hurt, and he was ignoring his own pain because he was concerned about her.

"Booth," she softly said.

His eyes flew to her face. All he found there was wonder. Booth grimaced and muttered, "I can't believe you. That bastard blew a frigging hole in you and you're as calm as a Tibetan monk. I swear to God, you never cease to amaze me." He brought one of his hands to her face to feel her forehead. "You're cold," he murmured. "Sully, get over here. Apply pressure on her wound, will you?" The FBI-agent in question hesitantly drew closer, only to become rigid moments later. Booth's stare grew cold. "Damn it, Sully. Now is not the time to make like a statue. Get your ass over here!"

Booth's harsh words shook Sully up from his paralysis. This was the woman he loved, not his partner. He had to help her, painful memories or not. He slowly squatted down at Brennan's side. With horror written all over his face, he placed his hands on the bloody patch of skin. Groaning and gritting his teeth, Booth pulled off his jacket. That wasn't an easy task, Sully soon understood. As Booth's jacket slipped down his arms, it revealed a growing bloodstain on his shoulder and side. Their assailant had gotten to him as well.

Booth draped the piece of clothing partly over Brennan's upper body and took over from Sully. He nodded at Sully's phone lying forgotten a bit further along. "Someone has to call 911."

"I'm on it," Sully replied, quickly picking up his discarded phone to call for medical backup again. He was more than happy to have something else to occupy his mind. As he explained their location and the extent of their injuries, he moved away from the pair.

"Thank you," Brennan murmured, gazing up at Booth. He mumbled something under his breath in response. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"Looks like it's a clean through and through."

She closed her eyes. _A through and through…_ Brennan dared to take a peek at Booth pressing down hard on the bullet wound. "It's bad." This time it wasn't a question, but a confident statement. "Booth," she tried again. "This is bad."

"No, it's not. This is..." He paused to touch her forehead again. "This is not bad. You're strong. You're a fighter. We..." His voice broke. "We can handle this."

Brennan was all too aware of the possible damage that bullet could have caused. Stomach, spleen, Arteria and Venia linealis, pancreas, intestines---they could all have been hit. There was blood seeping out of a hole somewhere in her midsection. Who knew what exactly was injured. If she didn't get attended to, she wouldn't make it. She would bleed to death at this rate. Those were the facts---facts Booth refused to accept. The emotions clouding his eyes caught her attention. He was afraid to no end. She felt sure she could touch his anguish if she could muster the strength to reach out. He didn't want to let her go---not here, not like this. Brennan gritted her teeth. It dawned on her what she would be leaving behind if she didn't put up a fight. She would slip away in a dark dream if she didn't try to survive---a nightmare where Angela would have no one to tease during coffee breaks, where Zach and Hodgins didn't have someone to vouch for their unauthorized experiments, and where Booth couldn't give her grief about her lack of pop culture knowledge.

Sudden fear overwhelmed her. With that fear, the numbness in her stomach was again replaced by the stabbing pain Brennan had first experienced. Her body arched up in an attempt to escape the agony storming through her limbs and gut. With cramped up fingers she clawed at Booth's arm. "Help me," she choked out. "Booth..." Her eyes rolled back in their sockets and her vision blurred. _No_, her mind screamed. _I don't want to…No!_

"Bones," Booth exclaimed. "Not again. Stay with me." He gasped as he pushed her body down on the ground to stop it from shaking. "Bones!"

---°---

_**Wednesday May 30th 2007 -- 02:57 p.m.**_

"You did everything you could," Brennan told him.

"It wasn't enough."

"Sometimes you give everything you have and it still isn't enough."

Booth ran a hand through his hair. Narrowing his eyes a bit, thereby making his stare even more intense, he said in a low voice, "I'd give my soul to turn back time...to make sure you were safe."

"You can't control everything, Booth," Temperance sighed.

"I should have tried…for you." He kicked a small piece of rock away. "I have to find a way to fix this---to make things all better again."

"Not everything is fixable," she softly pointed out, crossing her arms and averting her gaze to the small rock he had just sent flying away. After a moment of silence she tilted her head up again. "I have to deal with what happened on my own, but your presence here is making it bearable. For what it's worth, you're helping me piece myself back together. You can't change the past, but you're fixing me now."

* * *

_So I didn't kill of Sully...Big deal! Sue me! lol Anyway, let's see what we've got so far...Blood on the television set? Check. Blood on the legs of the dining table? Check. Blood seeping into the carpet? Check. The "Damn it, breathe" comment? Check. Anything I forgot?_


	4. Head Down

**Author's note: **There's only one thing I want to say about this chapter: brooding! Oh, and also to carefully watch the timestamps. If you ignore them, things might get confusing from now on.

Thanks **M** for looking over my grammar, **Amasayda** for the medical mumbo jumbo, and **Addictt** for being my reading guinea pig.

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**  
Chapter Four - Head Down**

_**Thursday May 31st **__**2007 -- 10:28 p.m.**_

Smoke wafting from cigarettes, the stench of men in desperate need of a shower, and the peculiar smell of oil and leather penetrated their nostrils. A fairly large man with his shirt loose, a stub dangling from his lips, stomped past their table. A few drops of beer splattered onto the table's surface because he was waving around his bottle, but Booth and Brennan didn't notice. They didn't acknowledge him or the skinny man on the self-made stage gyrating with a microphone. A clumsy waitress with too much red lipstick on placed two bottles of beer on their table. Brennan gave her a brief nod, which made the woman shake her head in disapproval. In a place like this, it was inappropriate to be friendly towards one another, even if it was just a smile or a nod of the head---unless you were seeking some horizontal entertainment.

The pair normally didn't frequent this kind of bar. "Yodelling Bob's" was nothing compared to their regular spot, but The Royal Diner was in D.C.---the place they called home, but was miles away. They needed some distraction before heading off to bed and this bar was the only one of its kind in a three mile radius, meaning it was the only place you could get a decent drink. Both knew they shouldn't drink while on medication, but they needed something to ease their memories.

One hour ago, Booth had pulled up to a shabby motel where they would spend the night. It turned out their rooms weren't as bad as they had feared. At least there weren't any cockroaches, unlike the last motel they had stayed at. Temperance studied him for a moment. The worry lines drawn on his face weren't as deep as a while ago, but they were still there. They'd probably never vanish. Even through the billows of smoke she could distinguish the fatigue plaguing his eyes. An uncomfortable grimace pulled at the corner's of his mouth, giving him that distant and unbending look she disliked.

"How's your shoulder?" Booth asked, shaking her from her staring.

Temperance shrugged. "Not too bad. How are you holding up?" During their journey, she had noticed he favored his shoulder and clutched his side every once in a while. It wasn't unusual behaviour since his injuries weren't healed yet. His physical ones were coming along nicely; Brennan made sure to check up on them at least once a day. It was the emotional wounds that concerned her. Until now she'd mainly been focused on regaining her breath. It hadn't occurred to her that Booth was trying to do the same.

He slowly lifted his head. The lines around his mouth deepened briefly before he spoke. "I still hear the bullets whizzing past us. I still remember the flash of the knife right before it plunged into you." Screwing his eyes shut, he bent his head down again, and clenched his hand into a fist as though trying to choke the memories. "I still feel your blood trickling through my fingers."

---°---

_**Thursday April 26th 2007 -- 0**__**4:35 p.m.**_

Five hours and thirty-seven minutes since she had been hit. Five hours and twenty-two minutes since they had been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Four hours and forty-six minutes since they had taken her up to surgery. One hour and thirty-six minutes since they moved her into recovery. Booth had been roaming the hallways of the ER since they had treated him. The second Brennan had been brought back to her room, he had stayed close to her. He had seen every minute pass on his watch. Time had slowed---every minute felt like ten. If he hadn't kept a close eye on the clock, he could've sworn he had been locked up in that room for days.

He contemplated the woman lying in bed. Had he looked so pale when he had been in the hospital? Did he look that pale now? His hand flew to his face---stubble and patches of dried blood, Brennan's mixed with his. He cringed as he felt them. The nursing staff had tried to clean him up, but he'd swatted away their hands. He'd tolerated them treating his injuries, but nothing else. However, he was grateful the nurses had cleaned her up. With her hair combed and her make-up removed, it looked as if she was sleeping deeply. According to the doctors, she had been lucky to have him around. If Booth hadn't dragged her to safety, the bullet would have perforated her lungs. Thanks to his intervention, the shot had only hit her spleen.

Ignoring the stinging pain in his side where the bullet had first grazed him before drilling into Brennan's upper body, Booth resumed his nervous pacing. _Why is she taking so long to wake up?_ _She should have been awake by now. _With each step, the other wound on his thigh where he was grazed by another bullet seemed to mock him. _Something's wrong. Something _has _to be wrong. Anaesthetics should've worn off by now._

Part of him knew he wasn't thinking straight. The anaesthesiologist had impressed on him that it would take several hours for her to come back to him. They had given her an extra dose of anaesthetics so she could sleep peacefully. If only they had done the same for him. Maybe then the clock would tick faster. His gaze was glued to the minute hand as he continued to pace. As long as he didn't have to take in the sight of his partner lying in a hospital bed---arms on top of a crisp clean sheet tucked tightly around her hiding her ravaged body and her eyelashes throwing shadows on her cheeks---he wouldn't have to acknowledge the harsh reality of their situation.

But the small cogwheels in his head didn't stop clicking and turning. No one had counted on an accomplice, let alone one with a flick-knife. There was just no way they could have anticipated this. Still Booth felt like he had failed. He was torn between guilt because he had allowed her to go in with them and anger because he hadn't kept his promise. He hadn't been able to protect her. No matter what the doctors said, he hadn't saved her. Proof of that was Brennan was lying in a hospital bed, looking paler than ever, hooked up to a machine that never stopped sending out small bleeps in a steady pace. The extensive blood loss had slowed her heart rate down. It had even caused her heart to beat irregularly during surgery. Now she was on a heart monitor---to closely watch her heartbeat and take action when it was necessary. He was relieved the doctors had removed the intubation. The sight of Brennan with tubes in her throat or with an oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose would've been more than he could stand. It would've meant she was unable to breathe---survive---on her own.

Cringing while the doctors were explaining her medical situation, he had been teleported back to the scene where he had begged her to calm down and take a deep breath. The last couple of hours he had been solely focused on her chest moving up and down. He had barely thought about Sully, who'd been left in charge at the crime scene. The second the medics had burst through the door, Booth had offered up a twisted thank you to their attacker for wounding him as well. It had given him the opportunity to accompany Brennan to the hospital, instead of staying behind to follow up on the shooting like the agent in charge of the investigation was supposed to do.

It briefly crossed his mind that Sully should have been at Brennan's side by now. If Booth had been in his shoes, he would have wrapped everything up as fast as possible and rushed to the hospital to check on her. Booth shook his head. _What Sully does is his own business. _He glanced at Brennan, still under the influence of anaesthetics. _Good thing she doesn't know that he isn't here._

The rhythmic sound of his pacing began to frustrate him, since it was as pointless as wearing a hole in the hospital floor. He ran a hand through his hair. The other one was wrapped up in a sling to prevent him from making unnecessary gestures that would open up the wound in his shoulder. Booth didn't even remember how they got the bullet out of his shoulder, let alone how they stitched the gap closed. All he recalled was the clock and the minute hand slowly pushing past each mark. His free hand fell limply down his side. He was done pacing. All he needed now was to see what all those doctors had told him---that she was going to wake up and feel sore, but would be fine in the end.

"Bones, I need you to tell me you're fine," he said, his voice rough from not saying a word as he kept vigil by her side.

Focused on the monitor's thin green line of peaks and valleys, he approached the bed and sat down in the plastic chair. Head bent down, all Booth saw was her hand resting on top of the disgustingly white sheets. It beckoned for him to take it. He needed to feel her skin, make sure she was warm, instead of deathly cold like she'd been right before going into shock. But that would mean all of this was real, so he refrained from reaching out to touch her. He didn't want this nightmare to be real. He couldn't take it---handle it. It would be too much. As time passed by, the need to encourage her to wake up became stronger. Eventually he sighed and said, "My faith in you, Bones, is absolute. You always seem to find trouble and we both end up with a couple bumps and bruises, but…" Looking at her pale hand, he shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, I don't mind. I know we make each other crazy sometimes, but it's all worth it." As an afterthought he added, "You're worth it."

Silence reigned as he returned to his taciturn state. A pair of nurses---oblivious to the scene unfolding inside---passed the door while having an animated conversation. Their voices and the steady beat of the heart monitor were the only things that could be heard.

"I need you to tell me you're fine, Bones," he whispered. "Then I'll be fine too." Booth knew he was losing it. He was losing _her. _Brennan needed to wake up for his sake. If she didn't, he'd go insane. "This is just me talking. You're the one who has to do the waking up." Unlike in the movies, Brennan didn't magically open her eyes in answer to his pleas. Thirty minutes passed in heavy silence punctuated only by the ticks of the clock. Booth was slumped in his chair, obsessively staring at her hand, but still unwilling to take it. The hour hand passed the twelve hour mark, meaning he had now spent nearly three hours at her side. "Come on, Bones," he sighed. "Don't make me wait any more. Open your eyes and start spouting that anthropological mumbo jumbo you drop into every conversation. I need to have no idea what you're talking about, 'cause it'll mean your talking...breathing..."

The long wait was starting to get to him. His anguish grew as time crept by. Eventually, because he saw the futility of trying to escape reality when it was literally staring him in the face, he took her hand into his own. Relishing the vague warmth of her skin, he let his head rest on their joined hands. For the first time since the knife and bullet buried themselves in his partner, Booth allowed himself to break down. No man could go through this without reaching his breaking point. The prayers for strength, forgiveness, and for her health falling from his lips were proof of that.

---°---

_**Thursday May 31st **__**2007 -- 10:35 p.m.**_

Her hand slid over the table and around his clenched fist. "I never fully realized how hard this was for you," Brennan softly said.

Booth kept his eyes cast downwards, but he relaxed in her grip. He brought his other hand up to run his thumb over her knuckles. "All I could do was stare at you and beg God to let you wake up." His hand stilled as he admitted, "I was terrified."

Temperance said nothing. Another biker stomped past their table. The overly made up waitress left the bar alone to take a grubby looking guy to the back. Smoke continued to swirl up from cigarettes and permeate their clothes. In the middle of that dingy bar, Brennan did the exact same thing she had done a while ago at the cemetery. She wrapped her hand around his and squeezed hard to let him know she understood just how frightened he had been.

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_  
I forgot to mention that this chapter was inspired by a song---Head Down by Kane. So...care to share your thoughts with me?_


	5. Must Be Dreaming

**Author's note: **As promised, a new chapter on Thursday. (Gotta love Thursdays!) I have to warn you, things _might _get confusing...You should be fine if you pay close attention to the timestamps (yes, always the timestamps). The parts in the past are based on Frou Frou's _Must Be Dreaming_. To be honest, this is one of my favourite chapters. Not specifically because of what happens, but because I play around with the timestamps. Is it big-headed of me to say how much I like it that past and present seem to flow together in this chapter?

As always, thanks to **M** for being an ass (excuse me...jackass ;) ), to **Addictt** for proof-reading and to **Amasayda** for one or two bits of medical talk.

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**  
Chapter Five**** - Must Be Dreaming**

_**Friday June 1st 2007 -- 02**__**:06 a.m.**_

Brennan bolted upright. For one long minute, she listened to the silence hanging in her motel room. Drops of cold sweat trickled down her spine, hugging every single vertebra, making her shiver. The locks of hair dangling in front of her eyes swayed back and forth, in the rhythm of her irregular breathing. Her hands and eyes flew to her stomach---nothing there. No bleeding slashes and no penny-sized holes gaping in her abdomen---only soft flesh and two thin reddish scars. She was perfectly fine.

Realizing she had been dreaming again, Brennan let out a deep sigh. With curt movements she kicked the sheets to the end of the bed. All her tossing about had turned her bed into a steaming hot mess of sheets, covers, and sweat. After she had decided she didn't want to smell like those men at the biker bar, she got up and rounded her bed. The sound of her bare feet first padding across the rather threadbare rug before they softly slapped against the bathroom floor tiles was accompanied by the barely audible rustling of her pajamas.

Brennan caught sight of her ghostly white face when she stopped at the washbasin. The eerie light of the small light bulb hanging next to the mirror enhanced the pale color of her skin. She was aware that she didn't look this unhealthy in broad daylight, but it still disturbed her more than she was willing to admit. It reminded her too much of hospital sheets and of her own ghostlike appearance in the weeks after the incident. As cold water loudly clashed with the sink, Brennan pressed her warm hand against the cold mirror. _When will this nightmare end?_ Her reflexion stared silently back, as clueless about the answer as she was. Drops of water flew everywhere when she stuck her hands under the tap. She breathed out a relieved sigh when the cold water came in contact with her feverishly hot skin. Remnants of her dream swirled down the drain together with the sweat she had just washed off.

No longer able to look herself in the eye, she took a few steps back until her back was flat against the opposite wall. Her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, and her eyes closed to shield her from her reflexion gazing back at her, Brennan slowly slid down. Her spine made contact with every irregularity in the wall until she finally sat down on the chilly bathroom floor. _Breathe, Temperance. Breathe._

_---°---_

_**Thursday Ap**__**ril 26th 2007 -- 05:20 p.m.**_

Sunlight teased her closed eyes stirring her from her sleep. Blinking several times, she quietly grunted as she opened her eyes. Red and white chequered gingham greeted her. Brennan pushed herself up on her forearms, shaking her head in an attempt to get rid of the sleepiness still clouding her mind.

"Are you finally awake?"

That question, asked in such a gentle voice, took her by surprise. Turning her head so fast that her hair whirled over her shoulders, she made eye contact with Booth, who was tenderly gazing at her. She slowly nodded while taking in her surroundings. They were obviously at the park, judging from the number of trees and square feet of lawn. A bird landed near their blanket to peck at a bug who was trying to hide behind a blade of grass. There were more birds sitting in trees around them. Their upbeat chirps, together with the humming of a bee in a nearby patch of flowers and the crystal-clear splattering of a fountain a bit further along, formed a not too overwhelming background sound.

"You must've been tired," Booth said. "You were out as soon as we got the blanket spread out." His fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. They lingered two seconds too long to her liking on her cheek before Booth drew them back. "Have I ever mentioned how peaceful you look when you're sleeping?"

Brennan regarded him wearily. Even though part of her---the ultra-feminine part---adored the somewhat strange affection he was showing her, she couldn't help but feel skeptical. Booth had been tender with her before, but never this openly. "No, you haven't," she replied, tilting her head slightly.

"Well, I should've." Checking the position of the sun, he opened the cooler resting on the edge of the blanket and took out two bowls filled with pasta and a variety of vegetables. He wordlessly handed her a bowl and a pair of chopsticks while he dug up a fork for himself. Brennan stared at her food instead of eating it, so he chuckled and nudged her side. "It's macaroni with tomatoes, a sliced Bermuda onion, some feta cheese, black olives, a green and a red pepper---your favorite."

Not tearing her gaze away from her pasta dish, she retorted, "Yes, I know it's my favorite." _But how did you know? I never mentioned it to you._

"Hey, I've put a dressing on mine. You wanna try it out?"

Since Brennan kept staring at him, he loaded his fork and lifted it to her mouth, which she automatically opened. While chewing on his lunch mixed with a vinegar dressing, she kept looking him straight in the eye. Something just didn't add up. _Why is he spoon feeding me?_ He looked at her expectantly. After she had gulped down the bite of pasta, a crooked smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Booth might've been behaving slightly out of character, but she was willing to look past that if it meant he'd prepare more delicious dishes like the one he had just let her taste. "That's not too bad," she told him.

Satisfied with her answer, he went back to digging through his bowl. Brennan gradually relaxed. The sun warmed her skin and the park's natural soundtrack soothed her. Calmly working her way through her lunch, she felt all her muscles loosen up---all except for her shoulder. It felt a little stiff and sore, like she had strained something. By the time she finished her pasta salad, the dull ache had evolved into a stabbing pain. She softly groaned as she rolled her shoulder to get rid of it. Booth was squatting down behind her in no time. His hands were all over her neck and shoulders before she could stop him. She sighed in content as his fingers expertly kneaded the knots in her muscles away. For a brief moment Brennan wondered again what had gotten into him, but the warm feeling in her neck stopped her from asking that question out loud.

"Where does it hurt the most?" he whispered in her ear. His warm breath caressing her ear made her skin pucker. Since he still had his hands on her neck, he had to have felt her reaction. To her surprise he didn't make a remark about it. He simply waited until she told him what spot exactly was giving her trouble.

"My right shoulder," Brennan mumbled.

A bit more firmly he began working on her aching shoulder. Under the influence of his relaxing massage, her eyelids slid closed and her breath evened. She leaned back to rest her weight against him. She wasn't even aware of her instinctive actions; she was enjoying the gripping and kneading of her shoulder too much. The birds continued to sing their upbeat songs and another bee joined the first one in the search of nectar, while Brennan slowly slipped into another comfortable slumber. Some time later she woke up again. Blinking several times to clear up her foggy sight, she noticed that she wasn't lying on the blanket, but against something soft and warm. Stifling a yawn, she shifted around a bit to take a look at her pillow.

Booth warmly smiled down on her. "That's the second time you've fallen asleep," he informed her. "Did you have a rough night?"

"It was your massage. I think you relaxed me just a tad too much," Brennan admitted a bit sheepishly. Her gaze was drawn to his thumbs stroking her arms in a steady pace. Her stomach fluttered at the sight. Booth was leaning against a tree with her pulled against him and was touching her. Her mind went into defcon five. This wasn't normal behavior for them. They had never picnicked and had never fed each other, let alone spooned like two lovers, so what was different about this situation?

He gently pushed her a bit forward, enough to allow him to stand up. "Come on, I need to be somewhere less hot. The sun's getting too warm."

Brennan got up to her feet as well and followed him to the fountain she had heard earlier. On their way there, she noticed the comfortable pair of pants and cotton shirt he was wearing. She lowered her gaze to look at her own attire---a light blouse and a wavy skirt. Not exactly something she would've picked for a day out to the park with Booth. Brennan shrugged. She couldn't quite remember why she had opted for the clothes she was currently wearing, but she figured Booth had something to do with it. They both removed their shoes and Booth rolled up his pants. They sat down on the broad edge of the fountain to let their feet dangle in the chilly water. A smile appeared on Brennan's face as the wind blew a fine cloud of mist her way while it made the trees rustle in the background. Putting her hands on the edge, she leaned slightly backwards. Her eyes closed again, making the background noises all the more prominent. She could easily picture their surroundings just by listening to everything going on around her. The peculiar smell of disinfectant the wind carried to them made her frown for a second. But just as sudden as the waft had appeared, it was blown away again.

"Don't fall asleep on me again, Bones," Booth chuckled. "You're going to give me a complex."

She mumbled an apology, but kept her eyes closed. The way the sun spilled over her face, combined with the calming splattering of the fountain, made her think of a peaceful scene right out of a romance novel. Their setting was just perfect. When Booth placed his hand on top of hers, she jumped a little. Her eyes flew open so that she could look at him. He was giving her a warm smile again. Even though she knew exactly what was going to transpire between them if she didn't put a stop to this, Brennan didn't protest when Booth leaned over to cup her cheek. He first ran his thumb over her lips before he pressed a gentle kiss on them. Her heart stopped beating for a second. _Is this really happening? _Then he captured her mouth again, this time with both his hands trapping her face. Their eyes fluttered closed at some point during their kiss and Brennan reached out for him, but she stopped before touching him, afraid she would ruin the moment if she dared.

Booth reluctantly pulled back. "Bones," he mumbled against her mouth.

---°---

_**Friday June 1st 2007 -- 02**__**:10 a.m.**_

"Bones?" Booth called. "Where are you?"

Brennan heard him rush across her bedroom. Seconds later she saw a pair of legs coming to a stop in front of her. As he squatted down, she noted that he was barefoot. As a matter of fact, he was only wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt that was clinging to his upper body.

"You should wear socks," she mumbled. "The floor's too cold."

He shook his head. "Coming from the woman who is sitting balled up on the freezing cold bathroom floor without any socks or proper pajamas…Shorts and tank top aren't enough to keep you warm, Bones. Why aren't you in bed?"

"Nightmare," she quietly explained. "What are you doing here?"

Booth stared down at his hands clasped together as they rested on his knees. Then he moved around until he was sitting down beside her with his back flush against the wall and his legs stretched out as far as the tiny space allowed. He carefully untangled her arms wrapped tightly around her waist so that he could take her hand. Lacing his fingers through hers, he replied, "Whenever I get the chance, I come by your room. To check if you're still there, to make sure you're still breathing."

---°---

_**Thursday April 26th 2007 -- 0**__**5:37 p.m.**_

She'd barely registered how good it had felt to kiss him, when another feeling fought its way through her body. Brennan groaned as she rolled her shoulder in an attempt to free herself from the stinging pain that plagued her. It was to no avail. The pain grew in force, past the stabbing sting she had experienced before her massage, and straight to blinding pangs that seemed to penetrate all the layers of her skin. When she brought her hand up to massage her shoulder, she was surprised to find a wet spot there. Her eyes popped open as she took in the damp red substance clinging to her fingertips. _Blood?_

Everything around her slowed down as she watched the small red spot expand until it covered her entire right shoulder. Not half a minute later she doubled over in pain. When Brennan pulled the arm that had been clutching her stomach away, she was horrified to see another dark patch grow. She quickly lifted her shirt up, only to find herself without any breath moments later. Blood was oozing out of a long deep scratch that ran from one side to the other. She jumped to her feet and out of the fountain, all the while moaning in pain.

"Booth, help me," she pleaded. He was frozen to his spot, literally. His hands and feet weren't moving, as weren't his eyes. Even his chest didn't move up and down, as if he wasn't breathing. "Booth," she hissed. _Why isn't he helping me?_

Sudden pain rushed through her body making her cry out. The flood of blood on her stomach doubled, leaving her gasping for breath. Her fingers cramped up, her knees buckled, and everything around her faded away. Booth disappeared along with the grass, the trees and the peaceful background sounds. Of all the things she had imagined Booth's kiss doing to her, making her feel like she was being electrocuted while bleeding to death wasn't one of them. In the distance she could hear wild beeping sounds. The waft of disinfectant she had noticed earlier filled her nostrils again. Brennan gasped, inhaling more of the hospital-like air.

She first fell to her knees, then onto her side. Pain---there was too much pain. Razor sharps stabs alternated with gushes of blood pushing out of her veins. Panic rose inside of her as silver dots flashed in front of her eyes. Her vision slowly blurred, until there was nothing more than blinding light surrounding her. Brennan turned onto her back, howling in pain. Her body arched up to get away from the vicious stings. In her desperation she found the strength to shoot upright. Something pulled at the skin of her right forearm and the lack of air pushed her panic to unknown levels. There was too much light to properly see her attacker. Brennan fought for all what she was worth, kicking her feet, and wildly striking out left and right. A sharp pull of her arm freed her from whatever had been tugging at it, but she was still air-deprived.

When she cracked her eyes open, all she could see was a white void. White on her left, white in front of her, and a green line drawing sharp peaks on her right. Panic kicked back in. Her eyes flicked around frantically. _Where am I? Where's the park? Where's..._ A familiar voice called her name and the next thing she was aware of was a warm body pulling her close. Much needed air filled her lungs as she hung around his neck, feeling his heart beat strongly in the same pace as her own.

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So...Care to tell me exactly how confused you are? lol_


	6. Nothing but Silence

**Author's note: **I have to admit that this chapter isn't quite like the previous ones, but I believe the story needed a moment to breathe (pardon the pun) so I could explain a thing or two.

As always loads of thanks to **M** for the edit job, **Amasayda** for providing me with all the necessary medical info, and **Addictt** for giving this chapter a quick read.

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**  
Chapter Six - Nothing but Silence**

_**Thursday April 26th 2007 -- 05:30 p.m.**_

Running a handkerchief over his hands, in vain trying to rub off the dried blood clinging to his skin, Sully rushed through the entrance door and straight at the elderly woman sitting behind a desk. "Temperance Brennan, please," he choked out, a little out of breath after having run across the parking lot to get into the hospital as fast as possible. "She was brought in about," he checked the large clock hanging against the wall behind the woman, "six hours ago, with gunshot and stab wounds."

"Yes, Ms Brennan, I remember her being brought in. She was moved to room 430 after surgery."

"Surgery?" Sully blanched a little. He had known Brennan was in bad shape when he had witnessed her go into shock, but it still felt like he was being hit over the head with a hammer now that he heard she had had to undergo surgery.

"Yes, she was in bad condition judging by the amount of blood she was losing."

The FBI-agent nervously tapped the counter. His gaze flicked through the entire welcoming area of the emergency room as he nervously swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. His sweat mixed with Brennan's blood. A bit further down the hall there was a teenager lying on a bed. His foot was awkwardly swollen, but he was peacefully gazing up at the ceiling. Sully guessed the young man had broken his foot and was waiting for X-rays to be taken. An old lady shuffled past the bed of the teenager, barely moving forward since she had to drag her drip along.

"I'm sure she's fine, Sir," the receptionist attracted his attention. She gave him a reassuring smile and pointed at the elevators across the hall. "Room 430 is on the fourth floor."

Sully nodded curtly at her. "Thank you." He lingered a bit longer at the desk, reluctant to step into that elevator since the woman he had lost his heart to was waiting upstairs. He had been in this situation before. Just not with Brennan, but with his partner. After his colleague had been shot, Sully had accompanied him to the hospital. He had seen him die somewhere in between two traffic lights, lying on a bed soaked in his blood, and paramedics cursing at his corpse because they couldn't get his heart to beat again. Seeing Temperance writhe in pain on the floor, slowly bleeding to death had dug up all those memories again. Sully wished he had reacted before Booth had. Instead of freezing up, he should've rushed over to her. He should've bathed his hands in her blood, trying to heal the hole, before Booth had called him over. But he hadn't. He couldn't change his actions, or rather the lack thereof. He had freaked out at the worst possible moment and now he had to deal with the consequences. End of story.

"Sir?"

"Yes, thank you," he said to the receptionist again. Gathering all his courage, he spun around and walked briskly to the elevator. He soon found himself on the fourth floor of the St. Helena hospital. "Room 430," he mumbled. He kept repeating those words as he raced down the hall, checking room numbers along the way. When he saw the room he was looking for, Sully took a sharp turn to the right, swung the door open and walked straight into a scene he could only describe as very private, even nearing something intimate.

Brennan was hanging around her partner's neck, gripping him so tightly with knuckles all white that Sully wondered if she wasn't strangling him to death. Booth was sitting on the edge of the bed, Brennan pulled flush against him, hugging her back with the same force. Sully noted how much trouble Brennan had with breathing. Even though she was pressed flat against the man in her embrace, he could clearly see her chest heaving rapidly. Booth on the other hand was barely breathing. He held her tight---eyes screwed shut, thankful prayers non-stop falling from his lips, his hand moving upwards to cradle the back of her head. Unaware of Sully's presence, Booth pulled back a bit to nuzzle her hair with his nose. Then he grabbed her again in a firm embrace. When Brennan's breathing slowed down, they both relaxed and hesitantly let go of each other. Sully thought of this as a good moment to make his presence known. He discreetly cleared his throat. The pair's heads swiveled around. They both stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Sully," Brennan breathed.

Sully uncomfortably shifted his weight from one foot to another as he replied, "Temperance...Booth..."

Brennan was the first to break the eye-contact. She grunted softly when she placed a hand on the area below her rib cage. Then she felt for her shoulder. Another grunt escaped her. Booth slowly stood up his eyes never leaving Sully, who was still hesitating in the doorway. Sully cringed a little under Booth's intense gaze. He knew he was late; he knew he should have gotten here sooner, but the memories had stopped him.

Booth averted his stare from Sully to his partner, who was running her fingertips over the large bandages wrapped around her waist. He carefully laid his hand on her right forearm. "You ripped out your drip, Bones," Booth gently told her, trying to wipe some blood away with his good hand. "I'll let the nurse know. You stay put, alright?"

Brennan nodded and slowly stretched out her legs. She didn't lie down again, afraid of causing more pain in her stomach. Her partner quickly made his way to the door and sternly stared at Sully before brushing past him. After a brief moment Brennan left her wounds alone to look at Sully who was staring at her. He didn't move a muscle, preferring to be near the doorway because he wanted to keep his options open. He could either go in and face her or turn around and make a mad dash for the elevator down the hall. In just a few hours time they had gone from a happy couple to two strangers who weren't sure if it was appropriate to address the other. Sully had just taken a few tentative steps in Brennan's direction, when Booth returned with a nurse.

"Are we finally awake, Ms Brennan?"

Booth glared at the smiling nurse. "It's Dr Brennan."

The woman kept smiling as she cleaned up Brennan's arm and inserted another IV. "I'll send Dr Peterson by later for a quick check-up. Everything seems to be fine, though," she assured the three.

When she left, an uncomfortable silence descended upon them. Booth sat down again on the edge of the bed, leaving only a hard plastic chair for Sully to sit on. In the last one's eyes this was a clear marking of territory---back away. It took you more than five hours to come down here. You don't deserve to be this close to her now. He fully understood Booth's reaction. He felt guilty for not having come earlier, but just the thought of what might await him at the hospital had made him stay at the scene as long as possible. Sully lowered himself onto the uncomfortable chair and stared at Brennan who was leaning against her pillow---her eyes closed and her complexion paler than ever.

"What happened?" she asked in a hoarse voice. Before either of the two men could answer, she cracked one eye open. "If you say I've been stabbed and shot, I will kick your ass right back to the 16th century. I need to know what happened after I went into shock."

Booth heaved out a deep sigh, sending Sully---who was intently studying his clasped hands---a sideway glance. "You had surgery, Bones. You were unconscious for several hours." He briefly looked at the clock hanging against the wall. "About fifteen minutes ago you woke up, kicking and panicking because you couldn't breathe."

She nodded and took in Booth's appearance. "What happened to your arm?"

"What do you think?" Booth grimaced. "Got a round in my shoulder and got grazed by bullets in a couple of other places." He gestured at the large wrinkled red T-shirt he was wearing on top of his dress trousers. "That maniac blew a hole in my Versace jacket and shirt, can you believe it?"

"That shirt looks like it once belonged to a sumo wrestler." Sully couldn't believe his eyes when he saw her throw a weak smile at Booth. She was lying in a hospital bed, barely able to keep herself upright, but still trying to have the final say.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure they dug it out of the lost and found," Booth replied, a faint smile curling around his lips.

"Now, now, Sir. Are you accusing my staff of not taking good care of you?" A tall man in a white coat jeered as he entered the room. He gave everyone a nod. "I'm Dr Peterson. I performed the surgery on Dr Brennan here." Coming to a stop at Brennan's side, he stared at Booth. "I know some of you are dying to know how she is, but I'm afraid I have to ask everyone to leave the room. I'd like to discuss her medical situation in private."

It was obvious the two men were reluctant to leave Brennan, even for five minutes, but they obliged anyway. Booth briefly patted her hand. "I'll be right outside, okay?" He gave her one last smile before making his way to the door with Sully---who hadn't said a single word in the last five minutes---in tow. The door closed behind them with a soft click.

"Right," Peterson began. "I know everything is still a bit blurry thanks to the shock and anesthetics, but what exactly do you remember, Dr Brennan?"

She heaved out a deep sigh. "I was stabbed in my right shoulder and shot in my left side. Damage could have been worse, seeing as I'm still here."

"You were stabbed here." He indicated the hollow in between the end of the right collarbone and the joint of the arm. "The knife grazed your Arteria axillaria. It was a fairly clean cut so repairing the tear went quite well. The bullet wound was a different story. Your spleen was beyond repair. We had to remove it. All in all, I'd say you were very lucky."

Brennan nodded. The spleen was one of the few organs that could be removed from the human body along with the appendicitis and tonsils. If it was taken out, all the other organs each took over one of its tasks. Her side hurt like hell, but she was grateful that the bullet hadn't hit her intestines. Her situation would have been far worse then. Just thinking about all the possible infections her intestines could suffer from and the pain that would go along with it made her shudder. Thankfully the killer had been a poor shot and Booth had pulled her out of the way.

"I'll inform the nurse that you can be taken off the heart monitor," Dr. Peterson's voice interrupted her thoughts. To answer her questioning look, he continued, "It was a precaution. Your heart was beating irregularly during surgery because of the blood loss and the shock." Quickly examining Brennan, he casually said, "You'll have to stay here about ten days."

"What?" Brennan shot out. "Ten days? That's impossible!"

"Dr Brennan, just look at yourself. You're as weak as a newborn kitten. You need rest to get stronger again. You're a doctor yourself; you know I'm not exaggerating." She closed her eyes in defeat. "Everything else appears to be fine. I'll let the nurse know about your heart monitor and I'll let your friends in again."

His footsteps had barely died away when two pairs of new footsteps crossed the room and halted at her bed. By the weight that pressed down on the mattress, she could tell it was Booth who had sat down on the edge. "How long?" he asked.

"Ten days." Brennan opened her eyes to look at him. "Do Angela and the others know what happened?"

Booth shook his head. "Not yet. I'll go call them now." He got up again and headed for the door. Right before he left the room, he turned back and pointed at her. "You stay put, alright? I don't want to find your bed empty when I return." Nodding one last time, he rounded the corner and left Sully and Brennan alone surrounded by deafening silence occasionally broken by the beeps of the still hooked up heart monitor.

* * *

_No worries. Darkness will return!_


	7. Passion Can Pass for Less

**Author's note: **And voila, some darkness for you...

As always thanks to "my team": **M, Amasayda **and** Addictt**.

* * *

**  
Chapter Seven - Passion Can Pass for Less**

_**Friday June 1st 2007 -- 02:13 a.m.**_

They sat, shoulder to shoulder, linked by their laced fingers, on the cold bathroom floor. Neither of them was dressed for this, but the shivers running up and down their spines making the hairs on their arms stand on end went unnoticed by the pair. They were both too wrapped up in their memories.

Booth turned his head that was resting against the wall to the side. "You're not the only one who's been having nightmares."

---°---

_**Tuesday May 8th 2007 -- 03:42 a.m.**_

He splashed cold water onto his face to wash the fatigue and horrible images away. Blinking because of the water dripping into his eyes, he blindly reached for a towel. He stared at himself as he dabbed his face dry. It was the middle of the night. The stubble grazing his chin and cheeks and the rather pale look of his skin were normal at this hour, but he still thought he looked like hell. Booth grimaced, fixing his gaze on the large bandage wrapped around his shoulder. He had gone through hell, as a matter of fact. He had every right to look like a ghost, like a person who had been dead for several hours. After putting the towel back where it belonged, Booth retraced his steps to his bed. It was such a mess it looked like World War II had been fought in it. He came to a stop at the foot of the bed and stared at the bundle of wrinkled sheets. Then he ran a hand over his face, sighed, and turned away. The nightmare would return---he could feel it. There was no use going back to bed when he knew he'd wake up in cold sweat fifteen minutes later.

Booth wandered through his apartment in search of something to occupy himself with until the sun decided to wake the world up. He ignored his stereo---listening to music at this ungodly hour would only earn him a pair of annoyed neighbors. Grabbing a bite to eat wasn't an option either since his stomach felt like it could regurgitate its contents any second. He deliberately passed his cell phone without picking it up; there was no one to call at this time of night. Instead he walked over to the large window of his living room. One of his hands found its way to the pockets of his black track pants as he silently stared out at the quiet streets. Even though it hurt like hell, he firmly pressed his fingers down on the bandage to massage his sore shoulder. The pain he was feeling was maybe one third of what his partner must have felt; he was sure of it.

It had been two days since he had driven her home. In the two days that she had left the hospital, his nightmares had intensified. He was well aware that Brennan could take care of herself and that she was probably just fine, but he couldn't shake the thought that she was home alone---vulnerable to all kinds of danger. When she had been at the hospital, he had been assured that if something happened, a team of nurses and doctors would take care of her. But now? What if her wound suddenly reopened and she bled to death? He shook his head fiercely. _I'm being overprotective. She's fine._ Still he couldn't forget the flashes of his dream---Brennan lying curled up in the middle of her apartment, bathed in the moonlight and a puddle of blood.

Booth placed one hand on the cold surface of the window. Hanging his head, he did the only thing he could to ease his mind, despite the fact that it would not be well-received by his partner. Five minutes later he left his home fully dressed and with his car keys dangling from his fingers. Pulling his front door closed, the chill night air slid over his skin. The echo of his footsteps accompanied him all the way to his car parked on his driveway. Even as he climbed into the SUV, he hesitated, aware of the illogical thing he was about to do and mocking himself for it. The engine roared to life after a swift turn of the key. Checking his rear-view mirror, Booth pulled out of his parking spot and drove off into the night. The typical sights of four in the morning ---a couple of teens partying in their car, one or two junkies hiding in filthy alleys, a homeless vet pushing his cart filled with empty cans---passed in a blur. As the yellowish glow of the streetlights was thrown on him every ten yards, guilt grabbed him in a deadly vice. If he had been just a tad faster, he wouldn't have had to soak his hands in her blood. If he hadn't removed her Kevlar vest, it would've protected her from that stray bullet and she wouldn't have had a gaping hole in her abdomen. If he hadn't allowed her to go with them, she wouldn't have been stabbed and shot in the first place. Reminiscing how her body had shook under his touch, he pulled up to her building ten minutes later.

Preferring the stairs over the elevator, he climbed the steps to the fifth floor, each one ricocheting off the empty stairwell. Halting at apartment 5B, he drew in a deep breath. She was going to kick his ass. Even though she was still recovering, she was still going to kick his ass so hard his head would spin. Despite knowing this, he knocked on the door in a gentle rap. No answer. He frowned and knocked again, this time a bit firmer. In the silence that followed, he heard nothing that indicated she was awake. Apparently, she didn't have any trouble sleeping. Since knocking didn't do the trick, he decided to try something a bit louder. His finger found the doorbell while he rolled his shoulders to loosen up the knots in his neck. He shifted around uncomfortably when Brennan didn't answer his persistent ringing.

"Bones?" he said in a low voice, trying the doorknob at the same time. The door was locked and there was no trace of movement inside---just what his already frayed nerves needed. "Hey, Bones, open up, will you?" Now the silence was really beginning to get to him. _What did she do? Take a whole bottle of sleeping pills?_

He felt for his phone, but didn't find it. Booth groaned in frustration. Forgetting his phone was proof enough of how tired he actually was. If he had been clearheaded, he would have never left home without it. He stared at the closed door, debating whether or not to turn around and just leave his partner be. Having reached the conclusion that he couldn't, he felt his pockets for the spare key she had given a while ago. He groaned when he came up empty-handed. Running a hand over his face, Booth mentally slapped himself for forgetting his key ring along with his cell phone. Was there anything he hadn't forgotten? Like his sanity?

His nightmares replaying in his head, he studied the solid wooden door, contemplating if it was appropriate to break it down. The mental image of his hands covered in blood spatters caused his head to roll back---eyes shut and breath shallow. There was no way he could leave without verifying she wasn't hurt. But what could he do, besides set up camp in her hallway? He couldn't take out a credit card and use his black ops techniques on Brennan's door, nor could he bother her neighbors to ask for Brennan's key. He doubted any of them had a key anyway. Sighing deeply, he turned and descended all five floors again. The only option he had left was drive back home to get his key ring along with his spare key. Once he had reached and unlocked the SUV, he felt like banging his head against the car door. On the passenger seat---in plain sight---were the items he had been looking for. Not wasting another minute, he grabbed his keys and phone and once again went up to Brennan's door. He rang the doorbell one more time and since Brennan still didn't answer, he slid his key into the lock and swiftly entered her apartment.

His worry led him straight to her bedroom and had him calling out her name several times on the way. The echo of his words hung in the air as he came to a stop at her empty bed. The covers were thrown back and the pillow was lying balled up near the nightstand. Evidence that she hadn't had an easy night either, but she clearly wasn't around. Raking his fingers through his hair, Booth debated his next move. Judging by the state of her bedroom, it was safe to say that she too had sought to escape whatever had disturbed her sleep. The abandoned bed left him guessing at her exact whereabouts. It would be madness to drive around D.C. in the search of his partner. Staying at her place like some sort of creepy stalker wasn't a bright idea either, but he couldn't seem to command his feet to walk away. After everything the past two weeks, he was worried about her---worried beyond words. Then Booth realized he didn't have to search the city for her. Unlike him Brennan would surely remember to take her cell phone with her. Without further thought he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed her cell number. It rang twice before a tired voice answered.

"Brennan."

"Why aren't you at your apartment?"

"I believe the more relevant question is why aren't _you_ at _your_ apartment?" she quickly returned.

All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place---the mystery of her unknown location solved. Brennan, his place, safe and breathing---six words that made him sigh in relief. "Don't move. I'll be there in ten."

---°---

_**Friday June 1st 2007 -- 02:17 a.m.**_

Brennan turned her head to the side as well to meet his gaze. "My nightmares drove me out of my home straight to yours," she quietly admitted.

He nodded in understanding while tightening his grip on her hand. "Dreams make you reach out."

Letting his words sink in, she relaxed one of her legs, stretching it out to get rid of a nagging cramp, before drawing it back to her chest. She was slowly becoming aware of the cold penetrating the thin layers of her clothes and the irregular wall forcing her spine in an unnatural position. Cold was settling in every warm corner of her body, seemingly turning her blood into a stream of ice. She wanted to get out of this bathroom that resembled a large fridge, but the thought of crawling back under the covers made her rapidly suppress the need for warmth.

Booth watched her stifle a yawn. She was obviously tired, but refused to fall asleep. Following his protective instincts, he nudged her side and said, "You should go back to bed, Bones. I'm sure you're freezing your ass off."

"My ass is just fine," she mumbled, ignoring his nudging and leaning heavily against him, seeking the warmth and safety radiating from him.

"Don't I know it..." Booth murmured under his breath. Against better judgment, he moved his arm around her shoulders---having come to the conclusion that she wasn't going to budge from her spot and that it was therefore for the best that he kept her warm somehow.

Brennan snuggled into his embrace vaguely remembering how she had once found it obtrusive of him to invade her personal space, but now welcomed it with open arms. It crossed her mind that Booth was being protective again. Only this time he wasn't putting his career on the line like he had done in New Orleans, but his own health. She shifted around, trying to find a place that didn't hurt to let her head rest on. Brennan was done questioning what he was offering her. He was there that was all that mattered. "You should go back to bed, Booth," she mocked him. "I'm sure _your_ ass is freezing off."

A rush of warm air slid over her hair, meaning he was softly chuckling. "Like I care, Bones. I'm staying here. That way both our asses will freeze off." His grip on her frame tightened, he slightly turned her so that her head wasn't resting on his injury and his chin came to rest on top of her hair. In an apologetic voice, like he was trying to explain his spontaneous actions, "You once gave up a date to stay with me at the hospital. Consider this payback."

Brennan smiled into his shirt. "Well, payback or not, we should get out of here. I'd like to still have my ass in the morning." They both chuckled before getting up and heading to the couch in Brennan's room. Brennan eased herself down and frowned as Booth flopped down beside her. "You don't have to stay, Booth."

"I know," Booth calmly replied. "But I want to."

* * *

_  
Now that wasn't _that_ dark, hm?_


	8. Can't Help Myself

**Author's note: **Ok, so maybe the last chapter wasn't that dark...This one isn't as well. Hey hey, don't leave now! (drags reader back) The healing process has to start somewhere, you know...Besides, I bet you're all wondering what happened at the hospital!

**M, Addictt **and **Amasayda**...You know how much you all mean to me as well as to this story...

* * *

**  
Chapter Eight - Can't Help Myself**

_**Saturday June 2nd 2007 -- noon**_

The silence after Booth killed the engine hung heavy around them. Brennan took her helmet off, but remained seated on the motorcycle. Her eyes slid over the small town they had just entered. It was so small she wasn't sure it was on the map. In a way it reminded her of Aurora. There was a gas station a bit further down the road, a building that looked like a diner from the late 60's, one of the smallest motels she had ever seen, and a couple of other indefinable buildings. Holding a hand to her forehead to shade her eyes, she tilted her head to feel the warmth on her cheeks. After a morning of feeling nothing but wind caressing her face, it was a relief to find some warmth.

Booth shifted around to look at her over his shoulder. "Here?"

She nodded. "Here." Getting off the motorcycle, Brennan breathed in deep. There was something about the air hanging in this small town that relaxed her sore and stiff muscles. Maybe she'd find some breathing room here.

Booth swung his leg over the saddle and handed Brennan his helmet to store. They both instinctively made their way towards the local diner---Brennan concentrated on her breathing, Booth pushing the Harley beside him. He parked it in front of the building before following his partner inside. The bell hanging at the door greeted them with a cheerful jingle. Just like back home, they headed straight for the bar. Sitting down on two high bar stools, they observed the few customers scattered across the room. Their eyes were burning on the pair's backs as they shrugged off their jackets and made themselves comfortable.

Booth raised his eyebrows, sent the villagers a challenging look, and then turned around to face the perky waitress who was anxiously awaiting their orders. "Bacon and eggs for me."

"I'd like to have scrambled eggs, two coffees, and the dessert of the day, please," Brennan added.

The perky waitress immediately disappeared to the back, probably because she also took care of preparing the meals. Brennan studied the bar's surface as Booth grabbed a napkin to fiddle with. His move made Brennan smile. Would there ever be a time he wouldn't need something to occupy his hands with? She recognized it must have been hard for him to have one arm in a sling. He had been forced to keep still for several days, meaning he hadn't had a chance to let out his pent up energy.

He was absent-mindedly folding the napkin when he cleared his throat to attract her attention. Once he felt her eyes on him, he said, "So Bones, how long do you want to keep on riding? When will we stop running away?"

Brennan briefly closed her eyes. How could she explain to him she would always be on the run since she wasn't running away from the past, but from the future? What had happened was engraved in her mind. She'd never forget how helpless she had felt when she had slipped away into unconsciousness. The memories would never stop haunting her, and they still hurt as well, but somehow the pain had lessened. Booth was keeping his promise. He was fixing her, slowly but surely. Even though she still vividly recalled every single detail of the shooting, thinking back didn't really scare her anymore. Not really. Not nearly as much as the thought of losing him did. It frightened her that somewhere along the way, she had begun counting on him. She had become dependant on his smart-ass comebacks, of his jealous streaks, and of his protective nature. If she thought she had had it bad before, she was up to her neck in it---in him---now. The shooting had enhanced that need to be close to him. She was hesitant about accepting his proximity, but at the same time didn't want to lose it. When he had shown up at her door nearly a week ago, she had grabbed the opportunity to get away from routine with both hands. She had needed a change of scenery to deal with the memories and to ponder the influence Booth had on her life.

Realizing that she wasn't going to answer him any time soon, Booth shook his head. He got to his feet and placed his little piece of art in front of Brennan. "I'll be right back."

Brennan nodded and watched him take off to the bathroom. When the door had closed behind him, she carefully picked up the origami bird he had just created. This was proof of yet another side of her partner she had become dependant of. The unexpected gifts he offered her---shards of his past, comfort in the form of guy hugs or random things like a little plastic pig or Thai at one in the morning---were what had gotten her hooked. Denial was pointless since the evidence was overwhelming. Brennan had become addicted to the little things with big meaning.

---°---

_**Monday April 30th 2007 -- 03:12 p.m.**_

She heard someone approaching her room---the echo of high heels clicking against the ground preceded her visitor. Brennan had just propped herself up when Angela poked her head around the doorframe. Clutching her sketchpad close to her chest, the artist hesitantly crossed the threshold. She had visited Brennan every day since she had ended up at the hospital, but she remained unsure of how to approach her friend. It was shocking to see her lying in a hospital bed---all pale, with bandages on her shoulder and side, and dark circles around her eyes.

"Hi," came her timid greeting as she sat down at Brennan's side.

Brennan gave her a faint smile. "Hey Ange."

Angela's gaze drifted through the room while she tapped the sketchpad lying on her lap. "So…" Crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat, her eyes finally settled on Brennan. "How are you holding up?"

"In short: I can hardly move, I got a new sling and I'm bored out of my mind. Can't you smuggle my laptop in? I hate lying around with nothing to do."

Angela curtly shook her head. "No work for you. You need rest. Doctor's orders, and Booth's too, if he thought for a minute you were trying to con me into bringing your laptop to you."

Barely suppressing a frustrated groan, Brennan fell back onto her pillows. She stared at the ceiling for a moment before turning her head to look at Angela. "Where are Zach and Hodgins? They were here with you last time."

"Zach had something important to do at the lab and Hodgins…He had some spores to examine. You know how those two can get caught up in their work." Brennan furrowed her brows. Somehow Angela's answer seemed rehearsed. Angela sighed when she noticed Brennan was onto her. "Fine. They wanted to tag along, but I asked them to stay behind. I wanted to spend some time alone with you. Have a little heart-to-heart. Can't really do that with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum around, hmm?"

"A heart-to-heart? Why don't I like the sound of that?" Then her stare softened. "But thanks for coming over, Angela. I appreciate it." Brennan motioned at Angela's sketchpad. "What's that for?"

Angela brightened up considerably at the mentioning of the paper lying in her lap. "You know me, Bren. You know how depressing I think hospitals are. That's why I brought you this." Angela sat down on the edge of the bed and placed the sketchpad so that they could both take a good look at it. "I figured I'd bring a little color to this…" To underscore her words, she purposely let her eyes wander through the room. "Very white and very dull room. Not that those flowers," she nodded at the bouquet standing on the bedside table, "aren't doing a good job. They just need a little help. Who gave them to you anyway?"

"Sully. He was here earlier. It wasn't exactly a memorable visit. He hardly said a thing." Brennan shook her head to dismiss the topic. "Show me what you've got, Angela. I'd love to see some of your art."

They spent the next half hour flipping through Angela's drawings of landscapes, touching scenes, portraits, or random stuff she felt the need to immortalize on paper. Angela kept silent most of the time, content on watching different emotions play across Brennan's features. A lot of people thought of the anthropologist as someone solely focused on science. They never suspected Brennan sometimes forgot her clinical nature and embraced her artistic side. The way Brennan was studying the drawings and the comments she offered confirmed Angela's thoughts.

"I'll leave them here for you to look at whenever you're bored. Now…" She closed the sketchbook and let it rest on her thigh. "How are you really doing, Bren? Any nightmares I should know about?" Brennan's avoidance of eye contact told Angela everything she needed to know. Her friend was being plagued by nightmares and refused to open up about it. She sighed. Brennan needed to talk about whatever was bothering her in her sleep. It wasn't healthy to keep it all bottled up. "Brennan?" Angela was about to probe some more when a knock on the doorframe interrupted her. When both women looked up, they found Booth gazing at them.

"Am I interrupting something?"

After a quick look at Brennan, Angela replied, "No, Booth. You're not. Come on in."

Wearing a hesitant smile, Booth crossed the room and halted at the foot of the bed. He first shrugged his jacket off and then sat down at Brennan's feet. "So Bones, how are you doing today?" he asked. "Loving the new sling, I see."

Brennan rolled her eyes as she tried to bring her arm up. "Don't get me started on this thing. I can't stand being this helpless. I can hardly move, Angela refuses to bring my laptop, and a nurse drops by every other hour to ask if I need something, but doesn't actually get me what I need, so can it get any worse?"

"I'm with Angela on this one, Bones." He gently patted the sheet lying over her legs. "You need your rest. It's the only way for you to heal and get back out there with me." He cringed at his own words. The thought of taking her with him and a possible repeat of the recent events made him queasy. But he knew well enough that he couldn't stop Brennan from accompanying him. He'd just have to work harder to protect her. His guilt would certainly keep him on his toes.

"You see, Bren. Even Booth agrees with me." Brennan only rolled her eyes again. Angela got up to collect her things. "I'll let you two be. I'll make sure Hodgins and Zach drop by later. See you tomorrow, sweetie." She was heading towards the door before Booth and Brennan could stop her. On her way out Angela nearly bumped into the nurse who was carrying a tray, little cups Booth immediately recognized on top.

Booth snatched one from the tray the second the nurse was an arm length away. "Hey, could we get more of these?" The nurse nodded and handed him two more cups. After she had left, Booth moved from the foot of the bed to the spot Angela had vacated.

With a curious look, Brennan saw him holding the little cup with the hand that was in a sling while he opened it with his other hand. "Booth, what are you doing?"

"Well, Bones, since you're stuck here, we better make the most of it. I'm going to teach you the fine art of eating as much pudding as you can." At seeing her face scrunch up, he clicked his tongue. "No pouting, Bones."

"I wasn't..." she scoffed.

"Open wide," he butted in, holding up a spoon full of pudding. Brennan gave him a pointed stare before slowly opening her mouth. Booth put a spoonful in her mouth and watched her intensely to gauge her reaction. When he saw her eyes light up, he grinned in satisfaction. As he brought a spoonful to his own mouth, Brennan quickly snatched the pudding cup out of his hand. "Hey Bones, that's mine!"

"Who's the one lying in hospital? I am. Ergo, it's _my_ pudding," she curtly pointed out as she grabbed the spoon he was holding and scooped more pudding on it.

---°---

**_Saturday June 2nd 2007 -- 12:34 p.m._**

Brennan shook her head and slid her dessert away. "This doesn't taste the same."

Chuckling softly, Booth replied, "I told you hospital pudding is addictive."

"We should have taken their entire supply with us."

Still laughing softly between bites, he finished his bowl of pudding. "Well, we made a pretty good dent." He tapped the counter with his spoon as he turned to her. "But Bones, have you given my question some thought? When will we stop running away?"

After a moment of hesitation, she met his gaze. "What about now?"


	9. Pick Your Poison Well

**Author's note:** Guess who's back...

**M**...I can't thank you enough. As **Labsquint** once said to me: "A good beta is worth her weight in gold." I couldn't agree more!

* * *

**  
Chapter Nine - Pick Your Poison Well**

_**Saturday June 2nd 2007 -- 03:23 p.m.**_

"I'll wait here," he told her when they were about to enter the local pharmacy. Brennan nodded and went inside without him. Booth sighed as he leaned against the wall with his good shoulder. How on earth had they ended up here on the porch of a pharmacy in the middle of a godforsaken town? She had claimed she wanted to stop running, that's how.

Hands in his pockets, he pushed himself off the wall and strolled away from the door. On his left at the end of the street was the motel they had checked into half an hour ago. He cocked his head to take a good look at the three-storied building. There was no mysterious aura hanging around it. It was a regular cozy, albeit tiny, motel---just like the rest of this town. The receptionist had given them each a room at the second floor, somehow suspecting that they needed to be near each other. After they had dropped off their bags, they had decided to pay the local pharmacy a visit for some extra bandages.

His head swiveled to the right to study the other end of the street. There was the diner where they had lunch. At noon about seven people had been there---now, it was nearly deserted. His eyes drifted further down the road to the gas station. They'd have to stop there before they left, otherwise they wouldn't make it to the next town. _If we ever make it there, _he thought as he ran a hand over his tired face. Brennan had said she wanted to stop running, meaning she wanted to hang around here for a while longer. It was beyond his comprehension what it was exactly, but something about this small town must've had an effect on her because up until now she had only been interested in getting as far away from D.C. as possible. Not that he blamed her for it. After scary moments where he doubted she'd make it, after hours of wondering if they'd ever be the same, after weeks of reliving their nightmare at night and worrying himself sick during the day, he had needed a change of air as much as she had.

Booth subconsciously wiped the palm of his hand against his thigh. He hadn't been kidding when he had revealed that he still felt her blood coating his fingers. The panic that had coursed through his body upon seeing her go into shock was burned in his mind. He'd never forget how she had clung to him when she had shot upright from whatever had been tormenting her while under the influence of anesthetics, nor would he ever forget how they had shared a pudding cup. That particular day had been the first in a series of unexpected, delightful moments where they had strengthened their bond. Unfortunately, them growing closer had forced two others apart...

---°---

_**Thursday May 3rd 2007 -- 04:06 p.m.**_

Tugging at his sling, Booth exited the elevator and followed the hallway straight ahead. On his way, he greeted a couple of familiar faces. Since he came to visit every day around the same time, he had gotten to know one or two fellow visitors. When he rounded the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. Down the hall, across from Brennan's room, was Sully holding a large bouquet of sunflowers. Booth rolled his eyes. How many bouquets had his friend given the anthropologist by now---four, six, maybe ten? From what he had heard, Sully dropped by every day and regularly brought her flowers, but kept conversation to a minimum. It almost seemed as if he was afraid of Brennan. Seeing how he paced around at her door, but didn't go in, Booth's suspicions were confirmed. For some unknown reason, Sully was reluctant to go visit his partner.

He waited one more minute---reveling in Sully's distress---before he approached his friend. He cleared his throat to make his presence noticed. Sully's head snapped up as he sent Booth a panicked look, which made Booth immediately feel uncomfortable. Sully was his friend. He shouldn't have made him squirm like that. To make up for his unkind gesture, Booth smiled and casually asked, "How's it going, Sully?"

"I should ask _you_ that question," Sully retorted, gesturing at Booth's sling. "You're the one that's hurt, not me."

Booth arched an eyebrow. Sully's tone was anything but light. There was a bitter and accusing edge to it, like he wished it was he who was incapable of moving his arm or driving on his own. Booth grimaced. Sully could have his injuries. He hated calling in favors with co-workers to drive him to the hospital, or even worse, taking the bus to get to Brennan. He longed for the day he could get back behind the wheel. Just one more week of waiting and then he'd be back in control---of his arm, his car, and his life. He chose to ignore Sully's comment and instead opted for a question. "Why are you still holding those flowers? Didn't Bones like them?"

Sighing deeply, Sully eyed the bouquet he was holding. Not tearing his gaze away from them, he replied, "She hasn't seen them yet." He glanced at Booth. "I haven't gone in yet. I've been standing here for more than half an hour."

Booth's eyes darted between Brennan's closed door and Sully, who had resumed his pacing. As much as he wanted to see his partner, he'd have to help out Sully first. They were friends after all, even though there was some rivalry between them where it concerned the anthropologist. "Come on, let's go to the cafeteria. You obviously need a drink," Booth said as he placed a hand on Sully shoulder to stop him before he felt the desire to bang his head against a wall. After one last look at Brennan's door, Sully let Booth coax him along to the elevators. They didn't exchange a word until they stood in line for coffee at the hospital cafeteria.

"You visit her every day at four," Sully began.

Booth glanced over his shoulder as he paid for his coffee. "Yeah, I do. You do at three so what's your point?"

Sully waited with replying until they had sat down at a table in a corner. "I'm with her. I'm supposed to be visiting her."

"What are you saying here? That I can't visit her because I'm her partner?"

"No, I'm saying that…" Sully sighed before continuing. "Four in the afternoon, Booth. You visit her at four, when all the patients get their afternoon snack." He gave Booth a stern stare. "I know about the pudding."

Booth felt like bursting out in laughter. Sully hadn't gone into Brennan's room because of a dessert? "It's only pudding, Sully. Besides being partners, Bones and I are friends. Can't friends have pudding together?" The laughter died away when he saw Sully was serious.

"You know damn well that it's about more than sharing a pudding cup." He folded his arms on the table and with his brows furrowed he leaned across the table. "I know about your feelings for her, Booth."

"Not again," Booth groaned. When he noticed Sully wasn't fooling around, he grabbed his coffee to buy him some time. After taking a sip, he slowly replied, "Of course I have feelings for her. She's my partner, my friend---my best friend, actually." Booth straightened up and leaned back in his chair to put some distance between them. Conversations about emotions always made him a bit jumpy, especially ones that concerned his partner. "Let me ask you a question. What exactly do you feel for her?"

"I like her…love her even. But somehow…You'd die for her, Booth." Booth's spine stiffened. He didn't like where Sully was taking this. "You took out that guy with the knife without hesitation. You protected her when that murderer began emptying his gun on us…"

"You wanted to protect her as well, Sully," Booth interrupted him. "I ordered you to take cover."

"I should've disobeyed. I should've been the one who tended to her. It should've been _my_ hands applying pressure to her wounds."

"Do you honestly believe I _liked_ soaking my hands in her blood?" Booth menacingly leaned forward so his sharp look wouldn't miss its target.

"No, I don't. I…"

"Sully," Booth once again interrupted him. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Bones was hurt. You froze up. I didn't. That's the truth." He leaned in and went on in a low voice, "You could've disobeyed my orders. You could've jumped in front of her to shield her from the bullets. You could've easily shoved me out of the way when I was checking her wounds. You could've done a dozen things, but you didn't." The last three words were curtly uttered. Booth straightened up again and darkly stared at Sully. "You didn't, I did. Deal with it."

To Booth's surprise, Sully remained quiet. For a while, he stared at the table's surface. Because Sully didn't say a thing, Booth took his coffee and sipped it while he observed the rest of the cafeteria. His eyes flicked to the clock. It was nearly 5:30 to his disappointment. _I guess I can forget about that pudding today... _His gaze was drawn to Sully when the agent began speaking again. His voice was no more than a whisper, but Booth could clearly understand him.

"She reminded me of my dead partner. She..." Sully sighed. "Seeing Temperance get shot took me back to when my partner was murdered. I saw him die right in front of me. The wounds, the blood, the whimpering...They were all familiar---too familiar to my liking. It's like the memories were strangling me. By the time I could shake them, you were already with her." Sully lifted his head to look Booth in the eyes. "I feel guilty, Booth---guilty because she could've died because I froze. She would've if you hadn't been there." Another sigh escaped him. "I feel guilty for not being there for her when she needed me the most."

Booth first stared at him. Then he murmured, "Not as guilty as I feel." He downed the last of his coffee before he got up. "You coming, Sully? I'm sure Bones would love to see you."

"No." Sully shook his head. "I can't face her now. You go ahead. I'll..." He paused for a moment. "I'll drop by tomorrow. Give her these, will you?" Sully handed Booth the bouquet of sunflowers. Booth wordlessly accepted them, gave Sully a nod, and exited the cafeteria without looking back. If he had done so, he would've seen Sully staring after him with a desperate look in his eyes before he threw his napkin on the table and ran a hand through his hair.

When Booth entered Brennan's room, hiding behind the flowers he was carrying, the anthropologist tiredly greeted him, "Hey you."

He lowered the flowers so that only half his face was seen. Grinning with amusement, he replied, "Hey yourself."

"Booth!" The surprise of seeing him there was evident in her voice and in the way she quickly tried to prop herself up against her pillow. "I didn't think you'd come." As Booth crossed the room and laid the bouquet at her feet, she furrowed her brows. "You brought me flowers." This time she sounded confused.

"No, these are from Sully. He uh...sends his love. He'll come by tomorrow."

"So you didn't bring me anything?"

"No, I didn't." He shrugged off his jacket before he tentatively glanced at her. "Should I have?"

"So basically you came to visit me empty-handed. No flowers, no chocolates, no case files to work on?"

"Uh...yeah, I guess so." Booth's discomfort rose as Brennan went on. He hadn't brought her any gifts because he thought Brennan would find it cheesy of him. But now it seemed he had been wrong. Brennan did want something after all. He was stunned to see a twinkle appear in her eyes as her free hand took a hold of her sheets.

Draping the fabric back, thereby revealing four cups of pudding, she smiled and said, "Good thing I held on to these then."

---°---

_**Saturday June 2nd 2007 -- 03:32 p.m.**_

Booth heaved out a deep sigh and wandered off the porch onto the street. _Sully was right. It was about more than pudding cups._

* * *

_  
Poor Sully..._


	10. Bail Me Out

**Author's note: **Can't believe it's Thursday again...Time sure flies.

Big thanks to M, Amasayda, and Addictt for helping me out.

* * *

**  
Chapter Ten - Bail Me Out**

_**Saturday June 2nd 2007 -- 03:23 p.m.**_

"I'll wait here."

Brennan nodded to indicate she had heard him and entered the pharmacy without him. She didn't quite understand why Booth preferred to stay outside, but she was grateful for the opportunity to be alone for a few moments. As much as she adored his company, a bit of "Brennan time" every now and then couldn't hurt. Her attention was drawn to a young woman, who was chatting with the pharmacist. From what the anthropologist could deduct, they were discussing various pregnancy tests. She cocked an eyebrow and went back to studying the supplies stacked on the shelves behind the counter. In the dusk light that fell through the windows, she could distinguish an impressive collection of bottles and boxes in all shapes and sizes. Everything was neatly organized in wooden cabinets like they used to do decades ago. The rather old-fashioned interior of the pharmacy represented the feel of the entire town. It seemed as if time had stopped here. It was fascinating and slightly disconcerting at the same time.

She was still lost as to why she had picked this particular town to spend a couple of days in. It was unfamiliar territory for her. There was no particular reason for her to be attracted to this unimaginative collection of buildings and dusty roads. Maybe that was the exact reason why she had chosen this spot to stop running. There was nothing that tied her to this place---no promises, no memories…absolutely nothing. Here it was just about her, Booth, and healing---exactly as it was when they were tearing along the highway. No thoughtful Angela, no bickering Hodgins and Zach, no remains to examine, no Sully to aggravate her---only she and Booth.

Brennan expected to cringe at thinking about Sully, but all she felt was a dull ache weighing heavy on her heart. What had happened had driven them apart. Immediately straightening up, Brennan mentally corrected herself. The ambush at that dilapidated Victorian house had nothing to do with why she and Sully had distanced themselves from each other. It had been Sully's reaction to all the events that had opened her eyes. Unlike Booth, he hadn't been around to satisfy her every whim. Not that Booth had played her personal servant twenty-four seven, but…Brennan sighed. At least he hadn't deserted her. He had once again proven to be loyal and trustworthy, while Sully had shamed her trust. She could even pinpoint the exact moment when she had felt him pulling away from her.

---°---

_**Sunday May 6th 2007 -- 10:55 a.m. **_

"Well, Dr. Brennan, it looks like you've healed up quite well. I'll inform the two gentlemen waiting outside that you can go home." Dr. Peterson took his pen out of his breast pocket to jot down a thing or two in Brennan's file. "I can imagine the joy my staff must be feeling right now," he mumbled.

For the past week Brennan had constantly been harassing the nurses with dozens of questions. The one question that kept coming back was if there wasn't a possibility of an early release. One of the men waiting in the hallway---Dr. Peterson believed it was Agent Booth---had forewarned him. He had explained how his partner usually was buried up to her neck in work and how frustrated she would get by simply laying in bed, doing nothing in particular except for healing from the attack. Peterson tucked his pen away and closed Brennan's file while shaking his head. Brennan may have been not the easiest patient he had ever treated, but it was her determination that had gotten her through the worst. He bid Brennan goodbye before turning and heading for the door.

Booth, a smile hanging on his lips, brushed past the doctor as soon as the latter one exited the room. "What did I hear, Bones? Are you being released?"

A victorious Brennan nodded at him. "He finally cleared me. I thought I was going to be locked up in here forever."

"He had every right to keep you, Bones," Booth quietly told her, while sitting down on the edge of the hospital bed. He grimaced at the sudden pain coursing through his shoulder. Since his usual stubborn self refused to wear his sling any longer than the minimum time his doctor had forced him to, the stings were more vicious than they were supposed to be, resulting in him having to deal with a constant dull ache. He was grateful that he could still move his arm and all five of his fingers of his right hand, but that nagging feeling of sore muscles was driving him up the wall. It sometimes made it impossible for him to stay still. It was as if he was always being pushed forward---like he was forced to keep on moving to forget the pain. He was teetering on the edge of absolute annoyance, mixed with a hint of insanity. He had to do something about his shoulder---not to mention his need to run away from everything---before he was going to make it worse by, for example, smashing a window out of frustration instead of the wall he had punched the day before.

"At least you were allowed to go home. You weren't the one who was stuck here."

Booth unconsciously rubbed the bandage around his hand as he replied, "Well, you got shot. That's why."

"You got shot as well," Brennan pointed out.

"Bones, that's not the same! There's a difference between a bullet in your shoulder and one in your stomach and you know it so stop messing with me." He got up to retrieve her clothes from the small cupboard in the corner. "I suggest you change out of that hospital thing now, unless you want to stay here until the end of your days?"

Brennan mumbled, "I'm the badly hurt one. You should be agreeing with everything I say." With a deep frown decorating her forehead, she continued, "Could you help me put my clothes on? My shoulder aches if I try to lift my arms."

"Uh...I'll let Sully handle that part," he replied, gesturing at the other FBI-agent entering the room. He masked his embarrassment with a subtle cough.

Sully wordlessly helped Brennan change into her regular clothes while Booth left the room, pulling the door closed behind him and going over to the window in the hallway to stare at what was going on outside. It was a rather nice day to be released from hospital. There were a couple of white clouds swimming around in the light-blue sky, there was a soft breeze whispering through the leaves of the skinny trees planted here and there on the side of the parking lot, and most of the people who were walking around in the hospital's park were smiling. Booth let his head rest against the window as he listened to Brennan murmuring something about Sully having two left hands when it came to handling her bra clasp. He vaguely wondered how she could be so indifferent about her stay at the hospital. It was a battle for him to step through the door of her room every day at 4 p.m. sharp. If he could ever put into words how the guilt took him by the throat, or how it made his legs go numb, or how he furiously wished it was him who had been the killer's target, he would sew his mouth shut. He just wasn't the kind of man who easily opened up about what was slowly eating him away.

"Done," he heard Sully mumble through the closed door.

"Great," Booth exclaimed, turning away from the window and pushing the door open again. "Let's go." He practically shoved Brennan into the wheelchair that was waiting for her before he marched away. He paid no attention to the forgotten hospital gown Brennan had worn for the past days laying on the bed. Getting away as far as possible from this place, and if it was possible, never return was Booth's main goal. Sully followed suit carrying the bouquet of white roses he had bought Brennan the day before. He didn't even try to stop Booth from pushing Brennan's wheelchair. Ever since their talk in the cafeteria, Sully had begun distancing himself from the pair. He hadn't stopped dropping by to see Brennan, but he deliberately kept his visits short. So far Brennan hadn't made any remarks about it. He eyed Booth who was repeatedly pushing the button to call the elevator. His impatient behavior made Sully sigh in resignation and brought a smile to Brennan's face. Booth was even more anxious than she was to get away from here. When the elevator finally arrived, they saw that it was completely packed, leaving only enough room for either about four persons or one person and a wheelchair.

Sully briefly closed his eyes, very much aware of the significance of what he was about to do. "Go ahead," he told them.

Brennan weakly protested. "But..."

"Go, Tempe. Booth will take you home."

Brennan hesitantly nodded at Booth, who didn't waste a second arguing with Sully's words. Without hesitation he pushed the wheelchair in the elevator. They saw Sully disappear from view when the doors slid closed. Brennan felt a tug at her heart upon seeing the somewhat lost look on his face as he stared at them---hand in pocket and loosely clutching a dozen roses with the other.

Instead of waiting for the next elevator, Sully retraced his steps to Brennan's room. He placed himself near the window so that he could watch them down below. A couple of minutes later they appeared from under the small shelter hanging above the entrance doors. Brennan had abandoned her wheelchair at the entrance of the hospital. She would've just walked out of her room if standard hospital policy wouldn't have been that all patients had to leave the hospital in a wheelchair. Booth and Brennan crossed the parking lot and headed straight for the SUV standing alone in the utmost corner. Sully put his forearm against the window and let his head rest against it. Concentrating on the view before him, he thoughtlessly tapped the roses against his thigh making a few rose petals fall down. As the petals soundlessly hit the clean hospital floor, he watched Brennan pull the car door open. Booth was with her within seconds when she reached for her side after she had tried getting into the car on her own. One hand steadying her elbow and the other supporting her side, he helped her sit down in the passenger seat. In return Brennan gently smiled at him. It was then and there that Sully realized it. Not taking his eyes off the SUV driving off the parking lot, he gulped away the nausea sickening him. She was no longer with him. He had lost her.

---°---

_**Saturday June 2nd 2007 -- 03:30 p.m.**_

The pregnancy test woman bid the pharmacist goodbye and left with a brown paper bag in her hands. Brennan calmly approached the counter.

"How can I help you, Miss?" the elderly pharmacist asked her. She took a moment to study the tufts of gray hair right above his ears and the webs of wrinkles circling his eyes. In a way he reminded her of the local pharmacist of the town she used to live in when she was little. Every time her mother bought a supply of band-aids, he made sure to put in a small treat for her and Russ. He knew how much five-year-old Brennan liked her gumballs.

"I'd like some disinfectant and some bandages, please."

He nodded, turned around, and began searching the shelves for what she had asked for. In the meanwhile Brennan dared to glance over her shoulder. Through the glass pane of the door she could see Booth standing with his back to her. He seemed to be studying something on his right side. She softly sighed. The instant Sully had pulled away, Booth had taken his place. Or had Booth pushed Sully out of the picture? Up till recently she hadn't given the past much thought. At the time of the incident she had been wounded and had been in need of care. It had repulsed her to ask for help, mostly because it had run counter to what she held in high regard---her independence. Now that she was away from everything familiar, she had plenty of time to deal with what had happened. But no matter how much thought she gave the whole Booth versus Sully situation, she could never quite manage to put her finger on what had exactly happened. One stab of a knife and one bullet in her side had torn her relationship with Sully to shreds while it had strengthened her connection with Booth. How exactly to define her new relationship with Booth she didn't know yet. It was one of the questions she hoped to answer before going home.

"Anything else you need, Miss?"

Brennan briefly looked at the pharmacist. "Gauze pads, please. Large ones of five by five, if you have them."

"Of course," he replied, giving her a friendly smile that made the wrinkles around the corners of his mouth stand out.

She went back to gazing at Booth's back. With one eyebrow cocked, she watched how he nervously ran a hand through his hair before hooking his thumbs behind the hem of his pockets. He stared at the tips of his shoes for a moment and then left the porch to stroll around on the street. There he began pacing around like a caged lion. Brennan's face dropped. Whenever he was around her, Booth acted all caring and he pretended there was not a dark cloud in their blue sky. He joked and even flirted a bit with her, just like before the incident. He did everything he could to fulfill his promise of fixing her.

"Should I add some sleeping pills to your order?" Brennan spun around incredulous. The pharmacist gestured at her partner walking up and down the street outside. "Your friend looks like he could use a good night rest."

"No pills," she said, the tone of her voice sharper than was necessary.

The elderly man shrugged. "Can I suggest a trip to the waterfalls then?"

Brennan glared at him to reprimand him for his interference. But when she stared at Booth again, her eyes softened and she bit her bottom lip. Booth was taking care of her. He was fighting against her demons for her, even though he clearly had some issues himself to sort out. Brennan firmly nodded. She had made a decision. As she took out some money to pay for what the pharmacist had gathered in a brown paper bag, she tilted her head and quietly asked, "Where exactly are those waterfalls?"

* * *

_  
Next stop...the waterfalls!_


	11. The Size of a Cup

**Author's note: **Another new chapter...Time sure flies, doesn't it? I have to admit that the 11th chapter is one of my least favourite chapters. It's just too...I don't know...(pets angst Musie) Too anti-angsty or something like that? lol

My hats off to everyone who reviewed last time. Believe me when I say that I tried to reply to each and everyone of you before posting, but time sort of slipped away from me while I was replying and talking online with some friends of mine. I'll reply...eventually. Just know that the effort you guys go through to leave me a little something is highly appreciated.

M...As you know I couldn't have done this without you. You seriously are one hell of a proofreader.

* * *

**  
Chapter Eleven - The Size of a Cup**

_**Sunday June 3rd 2007 -- 10:04 a.m.**_

_Perfect---absolutely perfect_ flashed through her mind as she took in the bubbly stream meandering through the clearing in the woods they had just entered. Her eyebrows shot up upon seeing what the pharmacist had described as waterfalls---two small ridges in the river. Water cascaded down them, filling the air with gurgling sounds and spraying drops of water everywhere. It wasn't exactly Niagara Falls, but it was sufficient enough for them. Brennan glanced over her shoulder at Booth who came up behind her.

"Soothing, isn't it?" she quietly asked.

Booth's eyes slid over the stream, over the patches of grass covering its banks, and over the small bushes planted here and there. He had seen more beautiful places, but he had to admit that this spot had its own charm. Especially if you considered that this stream of water was probably one of the few to be found in the dry land they were currently traveling through.

"Uh yeah...It's...charming," he mumbled. He brushed past her and came to a stop in the middle of the clearing, at the side of the river. Slowly turning around, he asked, "So what do you wanna do here?"

"Chill." With raised eyebrows Booth watched her approach him. Brennan using a word he didn't think was in her dictionary worried him. What was she up to? Taking the bag from him and giving him an intense stare, she said, "Something you should absolutely do." She lowered herself onto the grass and crossed her legs Indian style. When she saw Booth wasn't following her example, she glanced up. "Booth, sit down and relax."

"Bones..." Booth tried.

"Booth..." Brennan retorted in the same tone. "You need to relax...unwind...chill." Upon hearing her use the word a second time, Booth's eyebrows rose higher. In return, Brennan patted the grassy spot beside her. "Booth, just sit with me...please," she added.

He sighed and reluctantly obliged. Imitating his partner, he sat down on the ground. Stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles, he absent-mindedly plucked the grass beside him as he stared at one of the ridges in the water. "Why, Bones?"

"You're tense."

"I'm not -" Booth began to protest.

"You look over your shoulder every five seconds. You're ripping out what little grass there is on this side of this river." Booth quickly let go of the blades he had been about to pull. "But more importantly, you're not letting me out of your sight. Don't think that I haven't noticed how you try to stay as near as possible to me."

Swallowing hard, Booth followed a blade of grass as it was taken downstream with the water. He focused his gaze on a particular shallow spot in the middle of the river where he could clearly see the pebbles resting on the bottom. Part of him wanted to ignore Brennan and reach out to grab a handful of pebbles so he could lose himself in flicking them over the water's surface. But the other part---the part that was plagued regularly by nightmares and was worried sick about her safety---almost desperately wanted to spill what was wrong. After some hesitation, he finally allowed himself to make eye contact with Brennan. "Yeah, I'm tense. Aren't you?"

"We're talking about you, Booth," Brennan pointed out, stopping Booth from focusing on her again. "The pharmacist also noticed how nervous you were. He even tried talking me into buying sleeping pills for you."

Booth looked at her perplexed before he narrowed his eyes. "Is he the one who recommended this place to you?"

Brennan nodded. "He said the waterfalls would have a calming effect on us."

"You call that," Booth pointed at the ridges, "waterfalls?"

"It's the thought that counts, I guess..." They stared straight ahead for a few moments. A light breeze rolled over the clearing, making Brennan's hair flutter and even blowing some strands in her face. Booth reached out to brush them aside. Their eyes locked as his fingers lingered on her cheek. Not attempting to wave his hand away, Brennan kept staring at him and said, "Why are you worried about me, Booth?" He dropped his hand and averted his gaze. "I know you're troubled," Brennan continued. Her brows furrowed as she studied his face. "Are you afraid you won't be around the next time someone tries to hurt me?" She had hit the proverbial nail on the head judging from the set of Booth's shoulders. Still he preferred to not let her in.

Instead he quietly asked, "What makes you think that?"

"I hear you pacing around at night, Booth," she admitted in an equally quiet voice. Wordlessly Booth picked up a twig laying by his right knee and began fiddling with it. The kneading of his jaw muscles was the only indicator that he had heard her. "Fine," Brennan breathed, turning away from him. "Be stubborn then. I just thought talking about what exactly transpires in your nightmares would help."

He sent her a pointed look. "And now you're suddenly a people expert. I don't remember you filling me in on the details of your nightmares."

Brennan sighed. She'd never fully comprehended how quickly their conversations could flip. No more than three minutes ago they had joked about the "waterfalls" and now they were practically chewing each other's heads off. Avoiding all eye contact, she removed her shoes and socks, and then rolled up her trousers. Maybe Booth would open up if she ignored him or made him think the subject was closed. With a satisfied sigh she lowered her feet into the chilly river. It wasn't even noon yet, but already the heat hung heavy in the air. The cold water playfully washing over her feet was more than welcome. She leaned back on her hands and thoughtfully gazed at the river. There was a solution for all problems. A great example was her breathing problem. When Booth had discovered she had trouble getting past what had happened, he had whisked her away without a second thought. Now it was up to her to figure out how she could help him.

Brennan was surprised to see another pair of feet join hers in the water. When she glanced to the side, she found Booth sitting on the edge of the river---feet firmly placed in the water, arms resting on his knees, and his gaze fixed on an unknown point in the distance. She wondered if this was some kind of peace offering. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to ask since it could backfire and could send Booth back in his shell. A thought struck her. Her partner had once said that you get a little if you give a little. Maybe that tactic would do the trick here.

Lazily moving her feet around, sometimes lifting one out of the water before carefully dropping it again, she said, "This reminds me of my nightmare." She rather felt than saw Booth's gaze locking onto her. "When I was waking up from anesthetics I dreamt of this beautiful park. I had lunch, dozed off a couple of times, and dangled my feet in a fountain, like I'm doing right now. It was all very relaxed and even a bit soothing...until my dream turned into a nightmare. That's when I woke up. You know what happened next." Booth remained silent, but kept his eyes on her face. Brennan stared at the water gurgling around her feet. Her toes curled around some pebbles and eased them out of the way. "I was bleeding to death in my dream. I was scared because I couldn't fight the pain off and because..." She hesitantly lifted her eyes to look at him. Upon seeing the mix of interest, comprehension, and something dark roam about on his face, she gently nudged one of his feet with her toes. "You were there too, and you didn't do anything about it."

A storm of emotions whirled in his eyes before it finally settled on care with a dark edge. When the wind blew her hair in her face again, he reached out and gently pushed it away. "Dreams are dreams, Bones. You know it's different in real life." Brennan vaguely noted that he brushed her hair aside a lot since the incident. It almost seemed as if he used it as an excuse to touch her, like the motorcycle was her excuse for hugging him tightly. Booth looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he clammed up again at the last instant. Instead he grabbed the bag they had brought with them. "So what did you buy?" He was referring to the things she had bought at the small supermarket Brennan had insisted on stopping at.

She took the bag from him and rummaged through it. Seconds later she held up a pudding cup. The small smile that had been playing around her lips disappeared when she saw Booth's face go grim. "I thought you liked pudding? This is even the brand they served at the hospital."

"Bones..." Booth shook his head. If he had known the reason for her supermarket visit, he would've driven right past it. "Put that away, will you?"

Confused by his answer, her eyes flicked from him to the pudding she was holding and back to him. "Are you telling me you're scared of pudding cups?"

"No, I'm scared of..." He sighed upon realizing he had to fill her in on the thoughts that had coursed through his mind in front of the pharmacy. "I'm scared of us…of what we're becoming."

"And what exactly is that?"

"We're becoming..." He pondered for half a minute what label to put on their new kind of relationship, then settled for what he knew had to be one of the lamest answers ever. "We're becoming something...And I'm not sure I like it."

Brennan sternly stared at him. "Don't I have any say in this?"

"No Bones. Not right now anyway." He let out a frustrated grunt. "You're getting too close for comfort. That's all you need to know."

"Suit yourself," Brennan replied before sighing audibly and opening the cup she was still holding. She dug up a spoon from her bag and immediately loaded it with pudding. Sounds of approval escaped her as she devoured spoonful after spoonful. "You have no idea what you're missing, Booth," she taunted.

Half-heartedly he turned to look at Brennan working away on her pudding cup. He knew all too well what she was doing. She was trying to lure him to her side---trying to make him open up about his nightmares. The pudding was supposed to be some sort of a bribe. Booth shook his head. Without saying a word he reached out, took Brennan's cup and spoon, and quickly scooped up a bit of vanilla pudding. He didn't feel quite ready yet to let her in, but he appreciated the lengths she was going to make him feel at ease. It showed she was well aware of the "something" they were becoming, but didn't know quite well how to handle it, just like him. With a deep frown, Booth emptied the cup before settling back. They were becoming something alright. Only they both didn't want to voice it...not yet anyway. But someday they would. Until then the pudding would have to suffice.

* * *

_  
Ok, so they're becoming something. Nice and vague, isn't it?_


	12. Intimacy Bubble

**Author's note:** I find it remarkable how fast this story is going. It seems like only yesterday that I posted the first chapter...Anyway, I was surprised at the number of people who actually liked the previous chapter. Now I wonder what you think of this one. Btw, shout out to Fab...Remember your first request?

As always **M** deserves a big thank you. Every author needs a decent Jackass to keep him from writing ridiculous things and I'm sure as hell glad that you're sticking with me!

* * *

**  
Chapter Twelve - Intimacy Bubble**

_**Monday June 4th 2007 -- 08:54 p.m.**_

Three days had passed since that fateful night they had spent between the four walls of a chilly motel bathroom and only one day since she had probed for what bothered Booth at that clearing with the "waterfalls". Twenty-four hours in which Booth had stubbornly refused to share what exactly occurred in his nightmares. Brennan hadn't tried pushing anymore, instinctively sensing that it would only drive him away from her. She also still didn't understand why he had been reluctant to accept the dessert she had bought him. When she had been in the hospital, he hadn't missed a chance to sit down and share pudding with her. She guessed everything was different now that they were on the road. It was only them and their memories. At first she had thought it was the memories that tortured Booth, but the other day he had said that he was scared of what they were becoming. Brennan had an inkling about what exactly that was, but was unwilling to go down that path of thought until their main issues had been resolved. After their conversation it had become clear that Brennan found the small town they had stayed at soothing, but Booth didn't. So they had packed all their things and hit the highway again.

Still high on the feeling of the tires of their motorcycle eating away mile after mile, Brennan swung the door to a new motel room open. It became immediately obvious that this motel was of a higher standard than the last ones they had stayed at. On the dark-wooded nightstand stood a vase with a bouquet of wild flowers and the bedspread actually looked like it had been washed after the previous visitor had left. What amazed Brennan the most was the cleanliness of the bathroom. The last shower she had seen from the inside had had corners covered with mold. After dropping her light duffel bag onto the bed, she disappeared into the bathroom, intending to enjoy said shower with its clean scrubbed walls and freshly washed towels.

She was grateful for the plastic bag she had brought with her. If there was one thing she found soothing and more than welcome after a day of tearing along dusty highways, it was a hot shower with a bottle of lavender shower gel within reach. Thanks to that piece of plastic cover for her shoulder she could enjoy her shower to the fullest. As the water beat down her back, Brennan found herself the victim of thoughts filled with worry and painful memories. Though she had her good moments, she was still on the search for the right breathing room, even after a whole week of running away. She didn't expect the memories to completely fade away as time progressed, but the hurt would lessen. Therefore she had decided she wouldn't go home until she had regained her breath. The same went for Booth. She also had to learn how to deal with her new realization---how much she emotionally depended on her partner. They could never go back to their regular lives if they were incapable of dealing with their emotions. They'd have to wait until time had eased the pain.

Smiling to herself because she was using one of those metaphors she dreaded so much and was contradicting herself as well, she walked back to her bag to retrieve some clean clothes. Brennan put her dirty clothes in a plastic bag before tucking it in her duffel and had just run a brush through her damp hair when there was a knock on her door. She checked the peephole, unlocked the door, and trailed back to the bed with Booth on her heels. A drop of water sliding from his hair down his neck and the different pair of clothes he was wearing gave away that he had taken a shower as well. Brennan grabbed a gauze pad from her medical supply and sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the spot beside her. Just like he did every time they performed this silent ritual of changing gauze pads and cleaning wounds, Booth motioned for her to scoot back so he could sit down between her legs with his back facing her. He pulled his shirt over his head and patiently waited until Brennan had peeled the old white gauze pad off his shoulder. He stared at the bedspread as Brennan's fingers delicately slid over his skin.

"Thanks for caring," he abruptly blurted out, thereby breaking the silence that hung around them every time she tended to his injuries.

Brennan's fingers stilled. "I should say that to you."

A wry laugh escaped him. "I can't help but care about you." In the quiet that followed, Brennan reminisced about his words. Her thoughts were stopped short when Booth shifted around and threw her a quick look over his shoulder. "The squints care about you, too---each and every one of them. They're your people, remember?"

---°---

_**Saturday May 12th 2007 -- 04:16 p.m.**_

Her keys jingled with every flick of her hand as she watched the numbers pass above the elevator door. It seemed to take forever to reach the fifth floor. She knew she'd be relieved once she saw the door to her apartment appear. For now she had to struggle not to slump down against the elevator wall. Surgery and ten days in the hospital had weakened her. It had been six days now since she had been cleared---six painfully slow and boring days where she had exhausted herself with regaining her powers. The long walks she took every day were supposed to keep her busy and also were meant to stimulate her physical health. Brennan took a firm hold of the brown paper bag with groceries she had bought on her way home and slipped through the elevator doors as soon as they slid open on her floor.

Every fiber of her being missed her work, all her clinical instruments, and the smell of research and accomplishment that hung everywhere in the lab. Brennan shook her head. She missed those things, but what she missed most was the contact with her colleagues and the rush of bringing another criminal to justice. Sitting at home, doing nothing except for being annoyed by her physical weakness wasn't like her. Unfortunately Brennan had been forced to take another week off. Realizing that she could go back to the lab on Monday regardless the advice of her superiors, she smiled as she came to a stop at her front door. With her mind elsewhere---on the lab's platform with her friends to be more specific---she swung the door open and nearly didn't notice the threesome standing in the middle of her apartment. Brennan stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of Angela, Hodgins, and Zach expectantly looking at her.

When Brennan didn't say a word and just stared at them, Angela hesitantly opened her arms and gently tried, "Surprise?"

Brennan shook herself from her momentary paralysis. She threw her keys onto the table before putting her groceries down. "What brings you three here?"

Her light, not annoyed or accusing, tone made Angela smile. She happily gestured at the things that were taking up all the free space on Brennan's coffee table. "We've brought snacks and drinks. What do you think we're doing here?" Putting her hands on her hips, she answered her own question, "We're throwing you a welcome home party!"

"Angela, I came home six days ago and I thought I-"

Angela held her hand up. "I know you didn't want us to do something special back then so we decided to wait." Brennan sighed and opened her mouth to protest. "Come on, Bren, it's not even a party. It's a cozy get together with some friends."

"We brought chips...and peanuts...and..." Hodgins held up a platter, thoroughly inspected it, and frowned. "Apparently also something that's supposed to be fudge cake."

"Hodgins didn't even spike the drinks," Zach contributed.

"Zach, dude!"

"What?" Zach sounded surprised. "It's true. You didn't-"

Hodgins interrupted him. "Why would I spike the good doctor's drinks?"

Zach opened his mouth to say something back, but Angela stopped him. "Guys, why don't you put Brennan's groceries in the kitchen?" Hodgins mumbled curses at Zach and the latter one knitted his brows partly in confusion and partly in concentration as they moved to the kitchen to do as Angela had requested. The artist sighed in relief and turned to face Brennan. "So..."

They silently stared at each other---noises of bickering and the refrigerator opening and closing in the background---until Brennan cleared her throat. "So...fudge cake?"

"A spur of the moment thing."

Angela's smile and slight shrug of her shoulders that accompanied those light-hearted words were infectious. Brennan quickly found herself smiling as well. She gestured at the couch. After a nod, Angela sat down while Brennan crossed the living room to check on Hodgins and Zach. She was surprised to see how much of her groceries they had managed to put away. "You didn't have to do this, you know." She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. "But thank you. I'll put the rest away later." She smiled, pushed herself away from the kitchen counter, and went back to where Angela was patiently waiting, closely followed by Hodgins and Zach. When all of them were seated and had something to drink, Brennan cleared her throat before asking, "How is everything at the lab?"

"Exactly how you left it behind," Hodgins quickly responded.

"Minus one examination room," Zach mumbled. He arched an eyebrow when he felt Hodgins' eyes shoot daggers at him. "One of our experiments went wrong. Lab room 2A is no more than a pile of ashes."

"It would still be there if you had checked the doses."

"No, it would still be there if you hadn't felt the need to prove your scientific knowledge to Angela," Zach countered.

"Dude, that is _not _what I wanted to do!"

With raised eyebrows Angela and Brennan witnessed their heated discussion. At one point Brennan slightly turned to Angela, and while she traced the rim of her glass with her fingers, she quietly queried, "How's Booth doing?"

Angela shook her head. "We haven't seen him around the lab since...you know. Hasn't he visited you yet?"

"He hasn't been here ever since...Since he dropped me off."

"He didn't call?"

Brennan nodded before she sipped her drink. She wasn't kidding. She hadn't seen or heard from her partner since he had driven over to her apartment to check up on her. For some unknown reason she didn't want to fill Angela in on that even just yet. It was something a tad too emotional to share with two of her friends squabbling in the background. She stared at her drink for a minute. It was the truth that she hadn't heard from Booth in a while. It was four days to be precise. It was like he had disappeared from the face of the earth after Tuesday night. Part of her knew she was exaggerating, but still...She had hoped things would change---that they'd be different from how he had acted when she had just been released from the hospital.

Thinking back to the day he had taken her home, she concluded that she could've expected Booth to create some distance between them. At the hospital, he had been his dominant impatient self, but once they were both in the car he had turned as mute as a mule. The entire ride to her apartment he had kept his eyes fixed on the road. Her few attempts at conversation had been ignored. She remembered how surprised and lost she had felt. After his caring attitude during her stay at the hospital, his uncharacteristic silence had suffocated her. Brennan also recalled how relieved she had been when he had accompanied her to her apartment. At least his chivalrous manners hadn't changed. But her hopes of finding the relaxed Booth she had experienced at the hospital had been thrown out the window when all he did was mumble something about how it shouldn't have been him when she had thanked him for driving her home. He quickly left after those words and hadn't sought contact until the next Tuesday. Though she didn't like it that Booth hadn't called her after that night, she had to admit she hadn't called him either. They were both to blame for the lack of contact.

Feeling the need to explain Booth's actions and maybe even defend him a little, Brennan replied, "I haven't called either."

To her surprise Angela smiled and patted her hand. "You will soon enough."

In a strange way comforted and strengthened by Angela's confident reply, Brennan relaxed and leaned back. As a result the atmosphere hanging in Brennan's apartment immediately lifted. Hodgins and Zach seemed to sense how Brennan was no longer on the defensive because they gradually began drawing her into their animated discussions. It wasn't long before the four of them were happily chatting away like nothing bad had happened. Brennan was completely relaxed and glowing with happiness one hour later when a knock resounded through the apartment. She encouraged Angela and the others to continue conversation without her while she got up and went to the door. Her smile faded the moment she opened up. On her doorstep, clad in casual clothes and with his hair all ruffled up, was standing a very flustered Booth.

"Booth," Brennan murmured surprised.

He nervously shifted from one foot to another. "Hey Bones, I uh...I heard you squints were having a little get together and I...I was wondering..." His hand flew up to massage his neck. He briefly averted his gaze and licked his dry lips before locking eyes with her again. "Would you mind if I came in?"

Brennan first stared at him for what seemed an eternity. Then her gaze swept over him, from his head to his toes and back, quickly followed by a gentle smile curling around her lips. She pulled the door further open and stood to the side. "I thought you'd never ask."

---°---

_**Monday June 4th 2007 -- 08:56 p.m.**_

"Yes, they're my people."

Booth continued peering at her over his shoulder. "As am I."

Brennan acknowledged his words with a curt nod. "As are you."


	13. No Love Without Pain

**Author's note:** Thanks to bad management on my part, there was a gap of two weeks without a new chapter for which I profoundly apologize. Life can be hectic sometimes.

Many thanks go to **M**, my Jackass beta, who took the time to look over this even though she was away on vacation.

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**  
Chapter Thirteen - No Love Without Pain  
**  
_**Monday June 4th 2007 -- 08:56 p.m.  
**_  
_"Yes, they're my people." _

_Booth continued peering at her over his shoulder. "As am I."_

_Brennan acknowledged his words with a curt nod. "As are you."_

Since Booth kept staring at her, she turned her attention back to his shoulder. His injury was healing quite nicely. The scar was still red, but not as blood red anymore as before. With her fingertips Brennan lightly traced the rims of the shot wound. Her fingers stilled when she felt Booth shiver under her touch. Realizing he wasn't shivering because she was hurting him, but because of the impact of her cold fingers on his warm skin, she rubbed her hands to make them a bit warmer. Her gesture didn't go unnoticed by Booth. It occurred to him that even though he had promised to fix her, their roles had been reversed. She was taking care of him now---both physically as well as emotionally. He wasn't so sure how it had happened, but he was sure he didn't like it. He had deliberately kept her at a distance the other day when she had asked him about his nightmares. He'd deal with them himself. Brennan's help wasn't needed. Involving her would only run the risk of messing up her life more than he already had.

Booth shivered again when she began dabbing the stitched patch of skin with disinfectant. With every stroke of her fingers, more guilt washed over him. Thoughts hurtled and whirled through his mind causing goose bumps on his skin. The gentler Brennan's gestures became, the more he hung his head. He should've been able to protect her---instead he had frozen up. Only for a split second, but still long enough to give that maniac a chance to hurt his partner. When the bullets had whizzed past their ears, he had tried to keep her behind him---had tried to shield her---but it had been to no avail. Brennan had been hit despite his efforts. Sully's guilt was nothing compared to his. Booth had been closer to Brennan and had failed. His feelings of failure ate him away each day, as well as his sense of self-pity. He had screwed things up royally. Besides allowing someone to hurt Brennan, he had driven a wedge between his partner and Sully. He had forced Brennan to choose, even though he had forbidden himself to come between them. His gaze burned a hole in the bed covers as he fiddled with his shirt. He had messed everything up---especially Brennan's life. The fact that he was blaming himself more than was needed was ignored. He was oblivious to how he had reduced himself to wallowing around in his own, as well as Sully's, negativity.

Since Booth was so wrapped up in negativity he didn't notice how intensely Brennan was studying him while she cleaned his wound. Not half an hour ago she had decided not to return until she had regained her breath---until she knew how to deal with her inner turmoil. But now, as she watched Booth aimlessly play around with his shirt, comprehension and sympathy fought for first place. Her own mental state had improved with every town they had crossed, but Booth's...He was still drowning in darkness. Occasionally he came out of it to give Brennan the impression that he was just fine, but she wasn't buying it. The fact that he had his head down while she was tending to him indicated that he presumed he wasn't worthy of her care. Brennan shook her head and let out a small sigh. She had to find a way to get through to Booth---to make him see he was letting guilt pull him further down than was necessary. The bed creaked when Brennan leaned to the side to take a gauze pad out of her duffel bag.

While she peeled the protective strip off, she quietly repeated, "You're one of my people." And as if she knew, instead of guessed, what was on Booth's mind, she blurted out, "But Sully wasn't."

---°---

_**Saturday May 19th 2007 -- 08:45 p.m.  
**_  
Peals of laughter rang through Brennan's apartment when Hodgins recounted another failed experiment. This time they hadn't blown up an examination room, but they had come close to covering a group of financers in fake slime. Brennan was too tired to reprimand them, but not tired enough to already send them home. After an exhausting week at the lab, she needed to unwind---something best done with people she cared about. Brennan rested her chin on her hand as her eyes swept over the four people gathered in her living room. Angela was laughing at Hodgins's and Zach's antics. Hodgins gestured wildly and nudged Zach as he filled everyone in on what they had been up to. Zach carefully smiled upon hearing the details Hodgins was spilling. They were here to put her mind at ease. They cared enough about her to pretend nothing had happened, like they were having a normal get together. But Brennan knew all too well that it was just pretend. The realization of what she could have lost if she hadn't fought the warm comfort of slipping away unconsciously hit her hard every time she looked at her friends. She could've lost them---all of them---in just a blink of an eye. Brennan blinked and brought her glass to her mouth as if her drink could wash her thoughts away. Post traumatic stress was to blame for her tense nerves. Post traumatic stressed forced her to stop and think "what if?"

And then there was Booth. A faint smile tugged at his lips, but he was shifting around on the edge of his seat as if he was ready to make a run for it any second. Her stomach turned every time she met his gaze. In the depth of his eyes she could see the same pain that haunted her every night. It was that pain that had driven them out of their respective homes and to the other one's place. She had first experienced discomfort because she had driven over to his house, then she had gotten cold feet as soon as she had been on his doorstep. Next, worry had coursed through her when Booth hadn't answered the door, not even after long minutes of knocking and ringing the doorbell. Her worry had just reached the point of encouraging her to use her spare key when her phone had rung. All her second thoughts about bothering Booth at an ungodly hour had faded away the moment his concerned voice had reverberated through her phone. He had been out to check on her like she had left the comfort of her home to go and find him.

"You alright there, Bones?"

Brennan immediately straightened up. "Yes, I'm..." She focused on the glass she was turning round and round in her hands. The liquid swayed back and forth with each turn, kind of like how she felt at the moment. Every new day spun her around like a top on the loose. One minute she thought she was perfectly fine---she even succeeded at suppressing the memories at those times---the next minute she was reliving the whole nightmare again. Her hands stilled and she looked up, smiling gently. "I'm fine, Booth."

But in reality she wasn't. Flashes of them sitting on his front porch watching the sun go up after they had sought each other's company during rough nights alternated with shards of Booth grimacing as he tended to her wounds every time she looked at him. Though she had been on the edge of dying, the sight of growing bloodstains on Booth's shirt was burned on her retinas. Those stains, the gushes of blood, and the beads of sweat trickling down his temples flashed in front of her face making a clear view of him impossible. Brennan momentarily closed her eyes. _Block them, Temperance. Breathe in and out. You can look past the past._

"Really, I'm fine," she said again in the hope of easing the frown on Booth's forehead away.

When she caught sight of everyone's nearly empty drinks, she got to her feet, glad to have an excuse to get away for a moment. "I'll go get another bottle."

"I'll come with you."

Brennan cringed when Booth shot past her to reach the kitchen first---so much for a quiet moment to collect her spirits. From the corner of her eye, she watched his eyes flick around her kitchen as she got a chilled bottle of wine out of the fridge. Booth seemed determined to follow her around every time he got the chance. She had just popped the cork when her doorbell rang.

"I'll get that," Booth announced, already leaving the kitchen. Brennan was putting the corkscrew back in a drawer when Booth entered the kitchen again with Sully in tow. The drawer was left half closed as soon as Brennan made eye contact with Sully. Booth cleared his throat and before leaving he mumbled, "It's for you, Bones."

Sully stared at her as his mouth opened and closed a couple times. He was obviously hesitating about what to say first. Brennan's initial reaction---clamming up---made room for annoyance. All those exhausting hours of listening to Sully's silence were expressed in the shove she gave the drawer. The rumble of cutlery hitting wood underlined the sharp tone of her voice when she greeted him with a curt "Sully."

Sully's gaze slid through the kitchen taking in the clean counter tops, the alphabetically organized herbs, and the cherry pie sitting on the table before settling on the bottle of wine that was standing on the counter Brennan was at. Her hand was wrapped tightly around its neck, as if she was holding back from clubbing him over the head with it. Sully gulped and finally found words falling out of his mouth. "I don't know what to say..."

"That seems to happen a lot lately."

Brennan knew she was being harsh, but she lacked another way to voice her frustration. Sully had sat by her bed day after day, hardly speaking more than ten words in a row. It had been a most annoying ritual. Angela had brought her art, Booth had fought with her over pudding cups, even Hodgins and Zach had stopped by regularly with an entertaining present---she'd never forget how the medical staff had freaked out upon spotting cockroaches racing through her room---while Sully...Brennan shook her head. He had just sat there, staring at her, wondering what on earth he could say. Brennan sighed and lifted the bottle of wine. Just as suddenly as her annoyance had roared its head, it disappeared again. Sully had been, much like she and Booth, traumatized by what had happened. He had linked her nearly fatal wounds to the death of his partner. She knew how difficult memories were to overcome. Booth knew, too. Despite being plagued by ghosts of the past every day, he hadn't clammed up. He had chosen to live in the present, whereas Sully had opted to dwell on the past. Brennan shook her head again. Ever since she had met Sully, she had more or less secretly been comparing them. Now she finally had her answer. Booth was the better man. Well, maybe not necessarily better, he just suited her more. But that didn't mean she didn't care about Sully. Instead of pushing him away, she had to try and reach out.

"Why are you here, Sully?"

"I came to apologize," Sully started, clearly relieved that he no longer detected hostility in her voice. "And to ask you something." Brennan nodded. "Tempe...You need to get away for a while. Away from all of...this." Sully motioned at nothing in particular.

Brennan's shoulders slumped. "I can't, Sully. Not now..."

"And not with me." Sully's arm fell down his side. "Not now, and not with me." Brennan remained silent as she stared at him. Sully's gaze dropped. "Your silence says enough."

"That's all there has been between us lately."

He ran a hand through his hair and quietly acknowledged her statement. "I know..." They stared at each other again. Laughter, Hodgins' sarcastic comments, and Angela's witty comeback lines floated into the kitchen as reality finally caught up with Brennan and Sully. "So this is it, I guess," Sully said, recognizing they were two people who used to share something, but were now separated by a world of differences all because of one bullet and one knife stab.

Brennan let out a shaky breath. "I guess it is." Sadly shaking his head, Sully approached. He lifted his arms to wrap them around her in a final hug, but Brennan pulled back. Her breathing audibly sped up when Sully reached for her shoulder. He nodded in understanding. "Of course it still hurts." He glanced over his shoulder toward the living room. "I better get going then. Just..." He locked eyes with her as he shoved his hands down his pockets. "Take care, Tempe," he simply said. "Just take care of yourself. Promise me."

"Fine," Brennan returned, hardly believing that with the words "take care" Sully ended their relationship. "I promise."

"That's all I needed to hear." Sully gave an affirmative nod. He turned and started towards the front door, but halted before he entered the living room. He looked at her over his shoulder as he said, "I still think you need to get away from all of this. Take some time to figure things out." An image of her gasping for breath assaulted him. Shaking his head to clear the image, he continued, "Find some breathing room." Without waiting for a response, he opened the door and walked through it, leaving behind her and the remnants of their relationship.

---°---

_**Monday June 4th 2007 -- 09:00 p.m.  
**_  
The question that had been burning in Booth's mind the entire time was asked before he could stop himself. "Why did you choose between us?"

"I didn't. Sully did," Brennan replied.

Booth's head shot up. The weight of his conscious that had been dragging him down didn't feel as heavy anymore. He wasn't responsible for their split. Sullivan had chosen to walk away; he hadn't been pushed out of the picture by Booth. Relieved because at least he didn't have their failed relationship on his conscious, he finally opened up to Brennan's tender ministrations. The gentle caresses of her fingertips on his feverish skin reached a part of him that was desperately calling out for help. The moment didn't last long---it was no more than a click, a pebble in an ocean of dark emotions---but it gave him hope. It gave him enough courage to open his lungs and draw in a deep breath. As he did so, his fingers crept over his shoulder until they met Brennan's hand that was smoothing down the gauze pad. Glancing at her he covered her hand with his.

"Do you really want to know what my dreams are about?"

Brennan's encouraging nod and squeeze of her hand pushed him to take the next step in his healing process. Pausing regularly in between, but never stopping, Booth finally drew Brennan a picture of what plagued his mind at night. And he breathed. With every deep breath he took frustration, guilt, and failure was cast out of his lungs until there was nothing more but pure air---nothing but sweet freedom…and the feel of Brennan's hand in his.

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_  
So now Booth is breathing again. Of course Brennan is next. Interested in how, when or where she's going to breathe again? Then hit that review button, baby! (Uh oh, did I just ask you to review? I guess I did...Crap. lol)_


	14. Only One Call Away

**Author's note: **I admit that nothing too exciting happens in this chapter. It only contains my take on the heart-to-heart I mentioned a couple of chapters back. The ending of the "flashback" is also supposed to be the beginning of the next chapter which will be, nicely in sync with my entire chapter outline, an entire part that takes place in the past.

**M**, you rock...and you know it.

Also thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I apologize for being hopelessly behind on review replies. I'll get to them...someday...

**

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**

**Chapter Fourteen - Only One Call Away**

_**Tuesday June 5th 2007 -- 09:46 a.m.**_

Blurry illusions created by the heat were torn to shreds as they chased down the tarmac ribbon meandering through the dry landscape. With the cry of freedom singing in their ears there was little that could stop them. Brennan's hair whipped in her face and she was seconds away from bursting out into uncharacteristically joyous laughter when Booth ignored all speed limits. The grip she had on his waist tightened as the Harley's vibrations coursed through her veins. During those precious moments as they flew down the highway, Brennan felt closer to her partner than ever. They were one---one spirit, one heartbeat, one breath. No honks of passing trucks or itchy dust creeping under their clothes could make them jump apart.

Brennan's grip on his frame tightened some more when she noticed the motorcycle slowing down. Minutes later Booth leaned to the right steering the humming machine into the parking lot beside the road. Though it wasn't the same parking lot they had stopped at less than a week ago, the two places looked pretty much the same. Truckers were snoozing in their truck cabins as cars pulled up and drove away again. The mini-market on their right was buzzing with activity, much like the last one they had seen. Life's natural course hadn't changed one bit and still it felt like the world had spun 180° around. As Booth killed the engine and glanced over his shoulder at her, Brennan noted that the difference between the Booth squeezing her hands still locked around him and the Booth from a day ago pacing around like a caged lion was immense---Grand Canyon immense.

After having savored his touch long enough, Brennan let go and made sure she wasn't in the way when Booth got off the bike. He wordlessly placed his helmet on the saddle before heading off to the market. Brennan took off her helmet, too, and put it between her bent knees. Sitting high on top of the Harley she studied his back as he effortlessly wove through the crowds of mothers, fathers, and their children. She noted how much Booth had visibly relaxed after having shared his nightmares. The bounce in his step was gradually returning. The worry etched in his eyes was slowly softening and he stopped double-checking their surroundings every ten seconds. To the rest of the world Booth was his regular cocky self as if he had never acted any differently, but Brennan clearly saw the difference. With him no longer cursing what he couldn't change, his guilt, as well as all his cropped up tension, was easing away. After nine days of running, Booth was finally free to breathe.

Brennan wasn't sure if she was too. Post-traumatic stress was a bitch. It struck her at the most random and inconvenient moments. The only times she could escape her painful memories' death grip were when she was tearing along the highway with Booth. Her gaze flicked to his helmet as the thought of how Booth had found his breathing room milled through her mind. All he had needed was someone to talk to. What would it take for her to put her mind at ease and pick up her regular life again without being confronted with her past every five steps of the way? Just then, as if someone miles away had read her thoughts about home, her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her leather jacket. When she pulled it out the world around her seemed to hold its breath as though waiting on a sign from Brennan to continue turning. The feverishly hot sun burning down on her went unnoticed, as well as Booth casually strolling back with drinks as she stared at an all too familiar number blinking on the screen of her phone.

---°---

_**Tuesday May 22nd 2007 -- 08:01 a.m.**_

"Morning, Bren."

Brennan mumbled a greeting in return as she tiredly rubbed her eyes before resuming her examination of the remains sprawled out on the table before her. Angela disappeared into her office, shaking her head on the way. She knew Brennan could lose herself in the poking and prodding of a pile of bones until she had discovered everything that could possibly be discovered, but there was something different about the stare she had just caught sight of. It seemed as if Brennan was studying the skeleton, but wasn't really seeing it.

After Angela had dropped her bag on her desk, she stared at it for a while, contemplating her friend with her hands on her hips. Ever since the incident she had closely monitored Brennan. She had been ready to catch her friend at any given time. No one could survive a traumatic attack without breaking down, even if it was a momentary and not overly dramatic breakdown. For the past three weeks Angela had spotted some cracks in Brennan's appearance of utter calm, but not once had she seen an opportunity to completely break through Brennan's carefully constructed façade. So Angela had decided to wait for Brennan to come to her...and had been left waiting ever since. Angela sighed as she ran a hand over her face. Brennan didn't easily open up about her feelings when things were normal, let alone after what had happened. How on earth was she supposed to help her friend if she couldn't find a way to get through to her?

Angela grabbed her lab coat and as she put it on, she left her office and headed for the platform. She halted about five yards from the stairs leading up. Brennan was still focused on the shoulder blade laying on the table before her. Angela cocked her head to the side. Seeing as how Brennan was staring right through the remains, she suspected Brennan's mind was elsewhere. A small flame of hope flickered. She was sure Brennan was reliving the entire shooting incident. It was a dark memory to dwell on, but maybe it would push Brennan to include Angela in her fears. If it did, maybe then she would be able to help Brennan deal with everything. It couldn't be healthy to keep everything bottled up. When Brennan finally broke out of her numb state by lifting a vertebra up, Angela moved up onto the platform. Taking her sketchpad, she positioned herself close enough to Brennan to watch her every move, but not too close to irritate her.

Angela was halfway through her sketch when Brennan put the vertebra down and said in a quiet voice, "What will it take for you to stop watching me like a hawk?"

"You can't bribe yourself out of this one," Angela retorted evenly without taking her eyes off her drawing. "I'm worried about you."

"Well, don't." Brennan's sharp tone completely contrasted her lack of movement, the absence of a glare, and the fatigue etched in her face. It was more than obvious that Brennan was at her best keeping up appearances when other people were around, but found it more and more difficult to maintain those appearances as time progressed and her worries intensified. Hardly a night passed without waking up at least twice. Her visits to Booth's place were frequent. They had gotten to a point where they made sure they both had enough food and drink in their fridge to pass the night. Watching the sunrise from Booth's porch and from Brennan's balcony had become a habit as well. They both found solace in witnessing the beginning of a new day, but somehow it didn't seem enough. Brennan imperceptibly shook her head. She refused to give Sully's suggestion any thought. Running away...The very idea was ridiculous beyond words. She wasn't a coward; she'd stay and she'd bravely face whatever there was to come. And yet the possibility of seeking relief somewhere else became more tempting with every passing day...

Angela lifted her head to give Brennan a piercing look. "I have to. It's part of the best friend job description."

Brennan released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She placed her hands on the examination table and leaned heavily on them as she hung her head. "You're not going to leave this, are you?"

"No," Angela agreed. "Like I said, I'm your best friend. I can't just look the other way, not when you're suffering."

They remained silent for several minutes in a row. Angela tucked her pencil in the pocket of her lab coat and folded her arms over the drawing pad she was holding close to her chest as she kept her stare fixed on Brennan whose eyes remained glued to the examination table. Angela was just beginning to think Brennan was locking her memories up again when she softly spoke.

"Part of him is inside of me. That bullet first grazed him before it hit me. Part of him is literally inside of me." Angela arched an eyebrow upon hearing Brennan's words. Before she could reply, Brennan straightened, brushing her hair out of her face. She didn't seek eye contact with Angela though. "When I think back to what happened, all that comes to mind is that a piece of hot lead ripped something out of him and planted it in my side. The absurdity of that thought is highlighted every time I change bandages or when my arm brushes over my hip." Brennan turned to look at Angela with hurt giving her eyes a strange glazed over expression. "He saved me, Angela. He jumped in front of me and saved me."

"Yes."

"He shielded me." The hurt slowly faded and made room for a look of contemplation. She frowned as she crossed her arms and pondered her own words. "He put his life on the line for me."

"Yeah, that's exactly what he did." Angela shifted around. With her right hand holding her sketchbook down her side, she planted the other one on her hip and said a bit firmly, "Look, he's done it before, and chances are good he'll do it again. Booth's got a hero complex when it comes to you. Consider yourself his damsel in distress."

"I'm not. I can take care of myself," Brennan automatically denied despite the empirical evidence.

"Sweetie, when you're dodging bullets, you're most definitely a damsel in distress," Angela dryly retorted.

Brennan opened her mouth, but not a sound came out. Hands on her hips, hurt and a wish to understand playing over her features, Brennan shook her head. "Why?"

That simple yet exasperated question made Angela go back to her sketching. Not tearing her eyes away from her pencil smoothly gliding over the paper, Angela replied, "Ask yourself why you'd save him, why you'd make him _your_ damsel in distress."

First realization and then comprehension passed over Brennan's face. Her arms dropped down her side as she said, "You're right. That's exactly why he did what he did." Before allowing any other thoughts or doubts to invade her mind, Brennan shrugged off her lab coat and began heading off to her office. "I'm at the Hoover Building if you need me."

Angela's voice stopped Brennan when she was halfway down the stairs. "You won't find him there." Angela approached Brennan who waited a bit impatiently. "He won't be at his office at this time of day. He's..." Angela let out a small sigh. "Booth's out to fight his demons."

"Where is he, Angela?" Brennan asked in a persistent voice, narrowing her eyes.

---°---

_**Tuesday June 5th 2007 -- 09:47 a.m.**_

She kept staring at her phone as if it had grown a head and demanding to be answered as it kept ringing. Eventually Booth gently nudged her. "Aren't you going to get that?"

"It's Angela," Brennan mumbled like that explained everything, mainly her hesitance.

"All the more reason to pick up, don't you think?"

Shaking her head, Brennan waited until Angela hung up. "She's only going to ask the same thing she's been asking me from the day we left."

"And that would be what exactly?"

Brennan was tempted to chew her bottom lip like she used to do when she was little and was feeling anxious. "She wants to know when we're coming home."

"When are we?" His words were accompanied by a scrutinizing look. Brennan averted her gaze. Fiddling with her phone she stared at the motorcycle's saddle. Booth's question threw her off balance. She had claimed she wanted to stop running, but did she want to return home already? Had she found her breathing room yet? Booth sat down before her and after having sipped his drink, he lightly touched her shoulder. "Hey Bones...What do you say we go home?"

She replied without looking up from her staring, "Are you ready for that?"

"Yeah, I am. Aren't you?" He reached out to stop her from fiddling with her cell. Brennan slowly lifted her head. In response Booth smiled and gently squeezed her hand.

A smile mirroring his slowly crept over her face. "Yeah, I guess I am."

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_That's a good Brennan. You're one step closer to breathing. Come on, people, cheer for her with me. Breathe, Brennan, breathe! Breathe, Brennan, breathe! LOL_


	15. Broken

**Author's note: I know, I know...I'm a day late. Things have been hectic around here. I'll try to get the next and final chapter up in time. For now, sit back and hopefully enjoy this flashback.**

**M...my loyal Jackass...Thanks a bunch for sacrificing some of your precious time to this story...You are the best.**

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**Chapter Fifteen - Broken**

_**Tuesday May 22nd 2007 -- 08:54 a.m.**_

A chilly wind blew her hair in her eyes when she got out of her car. While pressing the button on her keys to lock her car doors, Brennan brushed her hair aside. When she looked up, she saw an elderly woman shuffle past her car. With the help of her cane, she pulled herself forward half a yard by half a yard. Brennan watched her move down the parking lot on wobbly legs. She suspected the lady to be on her way to a bus stop. Brennan then turned her attention to the high black gate on her left. After taking a deep breath, she straightened up, squared her shoulders, and went through the gate in the opposite direction of the woman, who shuffled by.

Rows and rows of headstones neatly divided into well-organized large plots of ground greeted her. Cemeteries brought out the most hurtful parts in humans. They were sheer hell when one wasn't in control of his aching soul. Prayers long said and tears long shed echoed in the paths leading through sections scattered with tombstones. Brennan stared straight ahead as she walked down those paths, refusing to read the messages describing those lost carved in dark and rough stone. For how long she had wandered she didn't know and didn't care from the moment she spotted him. He was standing with his hands in his pockets in front of a simple light grey headstone decorated with colorful flowers. When she approached him, he didn't acknowledge her. He kept staring at the tombstone without moving an inch, blinking, or even breathing. Every fiber of his being was motionless---tense. If she'd dare to lay a hand on his arm, she'd feel muscles hard as stone. She scoffed at herself for her unusually descriptive thoughts, but she was sure she'd feel the darkness bubble under his skin if she found the courage to reach out and touch him.

Brennan crossed her arms and positioned herself two tombstones down the path. If Booth was, to quote Angela "fighting his demons," it was best to leave him be for a while. A few silent minutes later, Booth turned and walked to a stone bench several yards away on their right. Still not uttering a sound, he sat down. He stared off into the distance as he placed his forearms on his knees and folded his hands. Brennan hesitated for a second, unsure whether to join him. Just because he had moved onto that bench didn't mean he was ready to talk. But one glance at the name Christine McCall carved in the headstone Booth had been standing in front of pushed her to take the first step and sit down next to him. Brennan couldn't help but feel like she was experiencing déjà-vu. Almost a year ago she had sat with him on a similar bench in a different cemetery, after their case of the murdered soldier. Booth's taste for comforting surroundings was slightly unsettling, but maybe being surrounded by remains confined to the earth was some kind of symbol…like he wanted to bury his demons---his worries, anxiety, and fears---together with the people, who forever rested in holy ground.

"How did you find me?" he asked in a rough voice.

Brennan mimicked his stance. Putting her arms on her knees as well, she replied, "Angela."

Booth nodded. "I figured as much."

As he went back to his tense state of darkly staring at an unknown point in the distance, Brennan studied first him and then the tombstone he had visited. A tortured sigh escaped him while he squeezed his eyes shut. Brennan hesitantly reached out and lightly brushed her fingers over his shoulder. Booth cracked his eyes open to look at her. "Angela said you fight your demons here," Brennan explained.

"Is that what she said?" Brennan nodded. "I guess that's what you could call it," Booth mumbled, hanging his head.

She pursed her lips. Her gentle approach wasn't reaching him. With a determined glint in her eyes, she gestured at the row of headstones they were sitting by. "Booth, Christine McCall was..."

His head shot up when he interrupted her. "Sully's partner. I know."

Leaning forward to try and make eye contact with him, Brennan replied, "Christine was Sully's partner, not yours. Her death isn't your demon to fight."

He slowly turned to face her. Brennan was caught off guard for a moment by the intensity in his eyes. They were filled to the brim with hurt and were as dark as the night. "Call it a reminder."

It finally dawned on her exactly what demons Booth was dealing with. He was drawing parallels between her and Sully's dead partner. The second Sully's name entered her head, she quickly turned away, afraid of letting Booth see his own hurt reflected in her eyes. She had trusted the bastard. He had been one of the few, if not the only man she had shared her bed with, whom she had trusted with her heart and he had trampled on it. Though Sully's recent silence had made her reconsider their relationship and even though breaking up with him had caused more unease than she had anticipated, the fact that he was the last addition to an ever-growing collection of men who walked away ached the most. She secretly glanced at Booth. What had she done to keep him around? He protected her time after time without any hesitation. Unlike Sully, he hadn't let her be torn to pieces by a maniac.

Her breath hitched in her throat as a train of memories and emotions ran over her leaving her gasping for air and her muscles twitching from holding them stiff so suddenly. Goosebumps raced over her arms, up her neck at the memory of the ceiling she had been staring up at. She could still feel the hard carpet against her back, could still feel life trickling out of her. Unconsciously she placed one hand on the scar on her stomach. She could feel the slash burn under her touch. All her scars hurt too much. They were silent evidence of one of the most traumatic events of her life. They threw her off balance, ripped her mind out of its clinical detached state, and robbed her of the air she needed to survive. _Calm down, Temperance. Calm down. You can block everything. You can forget everything. _

As she tried to put a stop to the river of hurt threatening to drown her, she unexpectedly grabbed Booth's hand. Her grasp was tight from the strong inner turmoil she was experiencing. Her eyes flew open when she felt him squeeze equally hard back. The strength of his grip was matched by his desire to ward off her demons, though he seemed incapable of doing the same for himself. Her gaze seemed to penetrate his carefully crafted facade. He was exhausted by what he had, and still had, to endure. She was as well, but to her surprise the memories that had threatened to swallow her whole not half a minute ago were banished to the back of her mind as she relished the warmth of his touch.

Booth cleared his throat and after a quick glance down at their joined hands, he spoke. "Sully was afraid, Bones. The thought of losing you made him freeze up."

"Booth, don't." Brennan shook her head. "Don't try to excuse him. You have painful memories yourself and they didn't stop you from protecting me."

"It's not just his memories. What held him back was his lo-" Booth sighed and let go of her hand before he continued. "He cares about you, Bones...a lot."

Feeling hurt sneaking up on her again because they were no longer skin on skin, Brennan tilted her head. "Don't you too?"

"Well, yeah...Of course I do, but that's not..." Booth let out an exasperated sigh before dropping his head in his hands. "When did this become so complicated?" he mumbled.

Before Brennan could answer, he got up and began to pace, brutally crushing the grass under his shoes. Brennan sat back, staring at her folded hands but not really seeing them. She patiently waited for Booth's nervous explosion of energy to wear off while she tried to calm her mind down. Just as soon as he had begun his pacing, he ended it again. Brennan quickly opened her mouth to answer Booth's obvious rhetorical question before his inner turmoil was once again unleashed in his heavy steps.

"You say you care about me...a lot. Sully said he did too. He said he loved me. But it's not the things you say, it's the things you do. He froze up. You didn't. If he meant what he said, that would never have happened. That says everything about our...partnership."

He came to a stop in front of her and put his hands on his hips as he stared down at her. He subtly ignored the insinuations Brennan's last statement held and carefully said, "Sully's right, Bones. Everything here reminds you of what happened. You can't deal with your trauma here. You need to get away for a while."

"You think I should go away with Sully?" Confusion and slight disapproval was apparent in her voice.

"No, I think you should leave D.C. for a while. Whether you want to include Sully or not is something you have to decide." Sighing deeply Booth squatted down in front of her. As he lightly touched her knees to keep himself from tipping over, he gave her the most earnest look he possessed. "Bones, I'm not kidding. You can't heal here. But I'm not going to force you to get out of D.C. as soon as you can. All I ask is that you think about it."

Brennan bit her bottom lip as she let his words sink in. Then she sighed in resignation. "Maybe you're right, Booth. I'll give it some thought."

He gently squeezed her knee. "That's all I ask."

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_Next is, as I mentioned earlier, the 16th and final chapter. Are you all still cheering for Brennan to breathe? ;)_


	16. Sweet Home DC

**Author's note: **After more than 16 weeks, the story finale is finally here. I can't believe this has ended so fast...I am actually quite sad to label this story complete...Anyway, on with the show. I would sincerely like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read my work. Special thanks to those who found the time to make me happy with a little review. Know that it is greatly appreciated.

M, Amasayda, and Addictt, I honestly couldn't have made this story to what it is without all your help so THANKS!

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**Chapter Sixteen - Sweet Home D.C.**

_**Wednesday June 6th 2007 -- 02:13 p.m.**_

Home...They were going home. The significance of that one syllable word hit Brennan square in the chest and robbed her of all air for a few moments. They were going back to their regular lives, even though she wasn't sure she would fit in. With every mile D.C. got closer and the knot in Brennan's chest tightened---to the point of suffocation at one point. In response she wrapped her arms tighter around Booth's waist and almost buried her nose in his jacket.

Home...Four letters that represented the world she had fled so hastily when reality became too confusing---too dangerous---to think about. A word that sent chills down her spine, that reminded her of the thin line Booth and she had walked. One second---one inch---of difference could have changed their lives completely. Brennan felt familiar imaginary walls closing in on her. It almost felt as if the fresh air she was breathing in was toxic and life-taking rather than life-giving. So she did the only thing she knew would calm her: she shifted forward until she was entirely molded to Booth's back. Brennan knew that the warmth radiating from his clothes or touch had a more than relaxing effect on her---the solid feel of him in her arms confirmed he was still with her and she could let go of her fears and hold on to him instead.

At that precise moment, when she was flush against her partner ensuring that he couldn't abandon her, she noticed the first familiar sights of Washington D.C. Strangely enough with every mile she knew so well---street corners she had rounded dozens of times, low honks of impatient drivers, the peculiar smell of exhaust fumes---her anxiety about returning home slowly faded. By the time they stopped in front of a building she knew so well, she had her breathing under control again. This was D.C. This was home---painful memories or not.

Brennan hesitantly looked up as the last roars of the Harley died away. She savored the final vibrations of the bike's engine racing while she contemplated the apartment on the fifth floor. For ten long days she had barely thought about her luxurious home. During those ten days, her world had consisted of Booth and a Harley. It was almost surreal to climb off the bike and back to real life. Brennan breathed in deep. She knew she couldn't escape this moment. Sooner or later she had to return home, of that she had been well aware of from day one. She just hadn't suspected it would be this soon. Booth must have sensed her troubled thoughts because he turned around, silently questioning her with raised eyebrows. Brennan first took off her helmet before meeting his stare. After pushing Booth to talk about his demons, she wanted to try and describe the inner turmoil their arrival was causing her, but she couldn't seem to find the words. It didn't matter. Booth sensed her distress and shot her a reassuring smile. His easy acceptance washed over her. Surprising them both, she wrapped her arms around him. Booth gave her hands a quick squeeze before patting them.

"Come on. I'll walk you up."

They both climbed off the Harley and Brennan grabbed her belongings. With her bag bumping gently against her leg, they took the elevator up to the fifth floor and strolled down the hallway until they came to a stop at Brennan's apartment door. Her face contorted in anxiety, anticipation, and a bit of worry as she fished her key chain complete with miniature skull out of her bag. When she swung the door to her apartment open, Brennan let go of a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. What she saw in front of her wasn't what she had expected to see.

---°---

_**Sunday May 27th 2007 -- 05:17 p.m.**_

With an irritated sigh Brennan threw her book onto the coffee table and got up to get herself a drink. A bottle of red wine was waiting for her on the kitchen counter, but when she reached for it her hand was left hanging in mid-air. Brennan bit her bottom lip. What was she doing? Drowning her memories in glasses of rich red wine wasn't the answer. She'd end up a drunk at this rate. Brennan shook her head and turned her back on the bottle that had kept her company every evening for the last five days. Why she had taken so long to come to this conclusion she would probably never figure out. She guessed she had thought she could solve all her problems on her own. But instead of facing her troubles she had chosen to ignore them, as always. Brennan decisively nodded. No more denial for her. She would head out immediately and would approach the man that had offered his help---Booth.

Armed with determination and her car keys, Brennan grabbed her jacket and left the safety and loneliness of her apartment. She was maybe ten feet away from her car when she heard a loud roar entering the parking lot. Fascinated she witnessed a heavy Harley Davidson with a familiar looking man riding towards her. Her eyes widened slightly when she took in his dark blue jeans and leather jacket that stretched around his shoulders. She would recognize those shoulders anywhere. When he stopped in front of her, Brennan crossed her arms and stared at him as he killed the engine and took off his helmet.

"So..." he said.

"So..." she repeated after him. Her eyes traveled over the bike for a second. "I didn't know you could drive a motorcycle."

"Well, Bones, there are a lot of things you don't know about me." He stared at his sunglasses after he had removed them. "But I know one thing about you."

Brennan arched an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"You," he said as he turned his stare on her, "have trouble breathing." Brennan averted her eyes upon hearing his words. She shuffled around a bit and opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Booth softly touched her elbow to make her look at him again. In a gentle voice he reassured her, "And that's alright, Bones. I know how you feel." When Brennan lifted her head she saw her own anguish mirrored in his eyes. He wasn't lying. What he had confided to her during their various meetings on his porch and at the cemetery and what she saw etched in his face now spoke an urgent truth. He had advised her to get away from everything while he suffered from the same pain.

"Booth, maybe you should..." she started, intending to suggest they leave their regular lives behind together for a while.

"Bones," Booth interrupted. "Grab your stuff. We're going on a road trip."

To her surprise she felt her lips curl into a smile. They might be in emotional limbo resembling a whirlwind of painful memories, but Booth still succeeded in reading like an open book. Without thinking about the possible consequences of their hasty decision to leave for better places, she nodded and went back to her apartment to do as he commanded. Booth accompanied her, but instead of helping her sort through her wardrobe, he wandered around her apartment pacing impatiently and rifled through her books and CDs. Idly he picked up a mask from Rwanda before discarding it for another of Brennan's eclectic collection of souvenirs. He eyed the bottle of red wine suspiciously as he uninterestedly leafed through the book Brennan had left lying on the couch. Hearing her heavy steps echo on the hardwood floors, he turned to face her as she emerged from her bedroom with her bag in hand. Glancing at her bag and that back up at her, he silently inquired if she was ready. With a nod, they headed back down to the Harley after barely a half an hour. Booth secured Brennan's bag on the back together with his before he swung his leg over the saddle. Brennan hesitantly followed his example. She had barely sat down when Booth handed her a helmet.

As she put it on, she questioned, "Why a motorcycle, Booth?"

He didn't answer. Instead he reached behind him for her hands. Wordlessly he wrapped them around his waist before glancing over his shoulder. "Don't let go."

"I won't," she returned. _Not in this lifetime anyway. _"But why a motorcycle?"

With a small grin he kicked the bike to life. The vibrations of the engine instantly made Brennan shiver with delight. "Don't tell me you don't feel the call of freedom when this baby is humming. And whenever I'm out there, on the highway, I feel like anything is possible..._anything_." To emphasize his words, he brushed his fingertips over her arms which were securely locked around his waist.

Brennan reveled in the overpowering sensations of the roaring Harley and the feel of Booth's jacket. Despite her dark memories and aching wounds, she felt safe, cherished, and at peace with herself. If only the prospect of running away from reality did that to her, what effect would the actual journey have? Fully planning on finding out, Brennan squeezed his waist. "Let's go Booth."

He more than gladly obliged. After a final glance at their surroundings, Booth opened the throttle and sped away. They exited the parking lot and disappeared into the light like two ghosts---like two wounded souls on the search of healing, enlightenment, and revelations.

---°---

_**Wednesday June 6th 2007 -- 02:28 p.m.**_

Her apartment---that's all she saw. Everything was still in its rightful place---even the bottle of wine she had left behind on the counter nearly two weeks ago. Brennan detected a slight pang of disillusionment. Somehow she had expected her apartment to change just like she had. She slowly walked through the door and dropped her bag on a couch. Booth followed her in before awkwardly standing in the middle of her living room. He uncomfortably shifted his weight from foot to foot as he stared at her frown. Brennan's eyes slid over her furniture and stopped at every souvenir she had once bought to decorate her apartment with. No change whatsoever. When she rested her stare on Booth, she tilted her head. Their surroundings hadn't changed one bit, unlike them. They weren't the same people anymore. They had risen above their memories. What had happened would always be engraved in their minds as well as on their skin thanks to their scars. Brennan shook her head and slowly approached Booth. The shooting had forced them closer. They were in each other's personal space now more than ever. And she didn't mind---not at all, not one bit.

When she was standing in front of him, she quietly asked, "Are you still afraid of us becoming something more?"

"Bones," he sighed as he pocketed his thumbs. "We were something from day one…only I was too chicken to acknowledge it." Brennan nodded to signal the same went for her. "And I was a fool for thinking I could fix you. In the end you were the one who fixed me."

"Good. That's what I needed to hear." Without any warning she slid her arms around him and pulled him closer. A surprised gasp escaped Booth.

"Whoa, what's this about?" he queried, but he hugged her back nonetheless.

"George Moore once wrote 'A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it'. I needed breathing room. The only times in the past weeks I felt safe breathing was when I was with you. You provided me what I needed...breathing room. Ergo, you're home to me."

A tender smile lit up his face as he tightened his grip on her. "You're home to me too, Bones," he quietly said. For the next five minutes they stayed like that---lost in each other's embrace, in each other's quietly uttered words, in their world---until Brennan hesitantly drew back. Booth cleared his throat and looked away as he took a step back. "I'd better go now."

"Booth, stay for a drink," Brennan urged.

He waved her words away. "Nah, I should get going." Shooting her a smile, he began backing away towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow at the hospital to get our stitches removed."

She sighed. "Sounds like a plan. I'll um..." She followed him before holding the door open and smiling as well. "I'll see you tomorrow then." Booth nodded as he exited her apartment. He quickly waved at her to bid her goodbye while he made his way down the hall. He was maybe ten feet away when Brennan called after him. "Hey Booth, don't get rid of the Harley, okay?"

"Like you even had to ask, Bones," he called back before disappearing into the elevator. As he descended floor after floor, his smile grew in force. By the time he was at his motorcycle again, he was grinning from ear to ear. A feeling of being whole filled him as he thought back to her words. Don't get rid of the Harley. In other words, don't get rid of what we have---of 'us'. How right the world seemed now...

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_ Hand me that handkerchief, will you? (blows her nose loudly) Thanks, I needed that. (deep sigh) So I guess this is the end...of Dying to Catch My Breath, but NOT of my writing! As a matter of fact...drum rolls please...I would like to give you a heads up about a new fic I will start posting on **NOVEMBER 15**. In case you're interested, look for a story called **Strappado**. :) And on that note, I am going to leave you review in peace. ;)_

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